


Hold On

by Incog_Ninja



Category: Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Coming of Age, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-28
Updated: 2013-11-27
Packaged: 2017-12-21 15:58:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 40,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/902134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Incog_Ninja/pseuds/Incog_Ninja
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Beth/Daryl, post-Home AU. When she saw him outside the prison gates in exactly the right place at exactly the right time, she was still pissed at him for leaving. But now he's back for good and she has to deal with what she really feels.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> AN: The idea of Beth and Daryl as a pairing took hold of me after watching the episode The Suicide King. There's a scene with Beth and Carol talking about Daryl's leaving. Beth was bereft, saying they wouldn't even be alive if it weren't for him, and that she was "pissed at him for leaving." Then Paley Fest happened, and Emily Kinney talked about Beth knowing she isn't a warrior but that she has a place amongst their group, watching over Judith, and singing for them—taking care of their home and quality of life. She also said she'd had a dream she was on Daryl's bike and... um, yeah. THEN I saw the s4 trailer at ComicCon and my head exploded.
> 
> This story picks up when the brothers show up at the prison at the end of Home, then goes pretty much AU after that. I may incorporate a few details here and there, but basically this fic has its own timeline and plot points.
> 
> Disclaimer: All copyright and trademarked items mentioned herein belong to their respective owners. The remaining content is mine.

He'd just up and left us for that no good brother of his, and then came back with not so much as a "sorry", or "I was wrong, and I missed y'all." I guess it was childish of me to think a man like Daryl Dixon would apologize for anything, much less for doing something he thought was right.

Being childish doesn't mean I wasn't fit to be tied, though. Maybe I should've been grateful. We didn't die, after all, and Rick didn't get bit. We were all glad to have Daryl back, but Merle was right on his heels, boasting about how he'd saved Rick—like he was some kind of hero.

"Officer Friendly here was crappin' his draws 'til me and my baby brother showed up," Merle went on. "What you'd'a done, huh, Rick? Those two geeks had you pegged, man."

"Shut up, Merle," Daryl griped at his brother, but it didn't much work. Merle kept yammering on about how great he was.

I could tell the whole thing made Carol uncomfortable; she didn't want Merle Dixon there anymore than Glenn did, and Glenn was chomping at the bit to get back at Merle for beating him up so bad. Still, Carol was graceful, and patient—ready to accommodate the men after their fight. She quietly asked me to help her round up some clothes and towels.

"Who does he think he is, anyway?" I whispered to her angrily, referring mostly to Merle, while feeling like confronting both the Dixons.

"No arguin', now, Bethie—just go grab some a Daryl's and Rick's clothes. And see if your daddy can't spare a few things for Daryl's brother," she said, making a face like she'd just eaten a wedge of lemon.

I nodded reluctantly, glancing over my shoulder at the quarreling men. Something churned my gut when I looked more closely at Daryl's face. He looked as tired and wrung out as Rick, and that was saying a lot. Daryl, as hard as he worked and as much as he never, ever complained, pushed himself harder than just about anyone—and by the looks of things, that was starting to catch up to him.

"Last time I saw Daryl look so bad he'd been thrown by Nervous Nelly, took an arrow to his side," I muttered, looking back at Carol. "And Andrea shot 'im."

Carol furrowed her brow and made a face at the men one last time, nodding at my comment. "Let's get a move on," she said, and I obeyed.

Somehow, Daddy got the men refocused enough for Merle to stop talking about himself. Carol told them all they should get cleaned up, too. Rick was still so shook up, but just having Daryl back seemed to be enough to keep him level; it leveled us all out.

I gathered some towels and clean clothes, then marched myself down to where Rick and Daryl and Merle were taking showers. Carol had asked me to bring them down to her, but when I got there, she wasn't anywhere to be found. So I kept on walking, looking for her, and went straight inside the shower room.

It's not like I'd never seen a nude man before in my life. Before the virus, I'd seen pictures; and since, I'd seen a few of our crew at least partially bare—was bound to happen living in such close quarters. Still, I wasn't prepared for what I saw inside that room.

"Well, hello there, sweet thang," Merle cooed, facing me head on, leering at me like I was the last piece of apple pie at the 4th of July barbecue. "Whatcha got for us?"

He was disgustingly bare and unabashed in his advance on me. I averted my eyes before seeing too much of him, just in time to see Daryl, moving into his path, equally bare, but not even close to disgusting.

I was stunned. I couldn't take my eyes off Daryl, naked and wet and moving with pure intent. The sun-darkened skin of his arms and back stretched over his muscular frame in a mesmerizing way. My gaze wandered down his torso, to his narrow hips, and strong thighs.

Yes, I'd seen the men in our group half-naked, but I'd never seen any man  _that_  naked. My eyes came to a full stop right at the top of his thighs. I had definitely never seen a real, live dick before. It didn't just hang there like a bunch of grapes, like the ones I'd seen in science books, but it wasn't all blown up like a balloon, either, like the images my girlfriends and I giggled at online. It was thick and it looked so smooth, jutting out from his hips ever so slightly… There was nothing funny about Daryl Dixon naked—at all.

I blinked away the image and tried to look everywhere but  _there_ , and my brain spun with the immediate panic that I was checking him out. Daryl Dixon of all people—twice my age, impatient and surly, and usually not very clean Daryl Dixon. Jimmy was much more my speed, wasn't he? But I never stared at him this way.

"Shut up, Merle," Daryl said, while attempting to keep Merle under control.

I took a deep, shaking breath, then turned to set their towels and clothes to the side.

"Thank ya, Beth," Rick said, subtly dismissing me.

"Run on, now, girl," Daryl said, backing up Rick's order, his eyes staying on his brother, continuing to block Merle's line of sight.

I didn't question the men, but Daryl's tone of voice rubbed me the wrong way. I stood for just a beat longer, thinking about confronting him, telling him I wasn't some little girl to be dismissed, but I didn't know quite how to say it. I turned tail and ran from the shower room, flustered, smacking right into Carol on my way down the hall.

"Bethie, where you off to in such a rush?" Carol searched my face, hers half-smiling and half-concerned. My hands itched and my belly flipped.

"Daryl, I…" I stuttered over my words with images of Daryl's bare, wet, solid skin and everything else teasing my mind, and I was further upset by the contrast of his gentle but firm voice, telling me that I was just a little girl in his eyes. Before he'd left, I felt like he trusted me. He'd asked for my help with Carl after we lost Lori, but now...

"They have clothes now," I finally blurted out.

Carol blinked, looking even more bewildered by my sudden admission. "Well, that's good," she said with a slow nod of her head.

She and I both looked up when we heard whooping and hollering coming from the shower room followed by another, and more vehement, "Shut up, Merle!"

Carol suddenly got that protective Mama Bear stance, her narrowing gaze focused on the shower room door, her lips set in a hard line. "You go check on your daddy, Beth." Then she moved with purpose toward the entrance to the showers.

It dawned on me that Daryl's stance was similar to hers—that he was trying to buffer me from his brother's onslaught—so I thought maybe he wasn't treating me like a child after all and maybe he was just looking out for me.

I did what Carol asked and made my way down the hall, pausing just at the end, when I heard her voice, low and scolding. "She is  _17-years-old_. You best keep that brother a yours in check, or I will."

I peeked back around the corner to see Daryl looking down at his loosely booted feet as he awkwardly buttoned his sorry excuse for a shirt. He was nodding faintly, his shaggy, wet hair dripping water all over his mostly bare shoulders. He avoided Carol's hot gaze when he quietly replied, "I got 'im."

I slipped away unnoticed.

* * *

There was so much commotion after the Governor's attack on the prison that we were still reeling when Andrea showed up one afternoon. She had a walker on a catch pole, just like Otis and Daddy used to do back on the farm. She pleaded with Rick to let her help smooth things over with the Governor, disbelieving and condemning us all for not trusting her and shutting her out, while we let Michonne and Merle in.

In a way her objections made sense, because she was family and we were all torn about not letting her stay, but she didn't see it from our side. She was trying to get us to surrender to a man who had held Maggie and Glenn hostage and ordered his men, one of whom was Daryl's own blood, to torture them for information about how to find the prison. I honestly could not understand, as a woman, how Andrea could lay down with such an evil man.

When Rick finally gave her a car with a full tank of gas and a gun, we were all a little confused, but I thought maybe it was a sign that she'd come home. I thought maybe she and Rick had an understanding that we weren't all privy to; and I hoped we'd be a family once again.

"I think Rick was right, don't you?" I asked Maggie, curious of her thoughts on Rick's decision.

Since Maggie had come back from Woodbury with Rick and Glenn and Michonne, she hadn't been the same. Me and Daddy were keeping an eye on her, praying she'd pull out of it, but there was a space hanging around her, pushing us all away. I wasn't going to let her disappear, though.

Maggie gave a half-hearted scoff in response to my question. "Lotta good that car 'n gun'll do—still, more'n I'd'a given her."

I knew what was in her heart, knew for a fact that she'd have given Andrea anything she needed, and not before she begged Andrea to stay. I thought maybe she needed to be reminded that we were all in it together, and that we all needed each other, right down to Little Ass Kicker.

"Can ya watch her for a bit?" I handed Judith over to Maggie. "I just wanna rinse off—get into some fresh under things."

Maggie hesitated taking Judith from me, but I gently pushed her into her arms and handed her the bottle. "Be right back," I promised, watching Maggie closely, her hardened expression crumbling into the sister that I knew so well.

I left her alone with Judith, grabbed a clean pair of underwear and a towel, and headed down to shower. I wished I could tell Maggie about what happened the last time I was down there, but something told me she wouldn't much like what I had to say.

She and Daddy were always on my tail about Jimmy and me kissing behind the barn, as if I'd have let things go farther than that—no way was I ready. I could just imagine what she'd say about my mixed feelings after seeing a grown man naked—especially when that grown man was Daryl Dixon. Even I was a little ashamed of my own self for thinking about him the way I was.

A lot had changed, though. After Jimmy moved into the house, and Rick's group showed up with a couple of near fatalities for Daddy to look after, we all saw the world through a different lens. Daddy tried to keep us preserved from guns and brutality and growing up too fast, but even he had changed his point of view on the way the world works. I loved that he openly accepted Glenn as his own son instead of "that Asian boy."

I wasn't alone in honoring and respecting Daryl as a valuable member of our group, either. Rick looked to him for counsel and support; Daddy reminded us all every day that Judith wouldn't have survived a night if it hadn't been for Daryl; and Carl, Rick's own son, was saying Rick should hand over the group to Daryl and Daddy.

I was feeling something more, though—something that stirred in my gut with the heavy emotion from Daryl leaving the group, then the relief when he came back, then being sent spinning when I saw him naked in the shower. The closest I could liken what I was feeling was to the jitters I had waiting for Jimmy to ask me to his senior prom before he ended up asking Sally Kaye Templeton instead.

But Daryl was no boy, and there were no more high school dances to fret and flail over. I couldn't wipe the images of him naked and moving into his brother's line of sight from my mind. The thought of him considering me important enough to risk harmony with his brother and to put himself in a physically vulnerable position sent me spinning extra hard.

I cleaned up as quick as I could, wishing the shower could clean up my mind and give me some answers. Once I was dressed again, and had hung my freshly washed unders to dry in my cell, I found Maggie fast asleep with Judith in her own bunk. The sight warmed my heart.

I quietly snagged the empty bottle from where it lay forgotten by both Maggie and Judith, and left them to rest. I was due to meet Carol and help with some other laundry duties, so I picked up my pace, not wanting to make her wait.

When I rounded the last corner on my way to the laundry room, I almost collided with Daryl and his brother.

"Hello again, girly girl," Merle said, making my skin crawl. I saw Daryl move in my peripheral vision, much like he had just a couple of days before in the shower, and I was thrown back to that moment once again, thinking about him wet and bare and half hard. I felt my face flush and I dropped my gaze to the floor.

"Merle." Daryl's voice carried a warning that calmed my nerves and stoked the blush on my cheeks and throat and chest. He was protecting me, just as he did all of us, but this particular effort made me feel drawn to him in a way that I would never have expected.

What I had assumed was him dismissing me as a child a few days ago could not be more wrong; instead, his action—stepping in between his brother and me—was recognition that I was a woman in his eyes, someone to be desired, even if it wasn't him doing the desiring.

"Leave her be," he continued.

"Aww, come on now," Merle said, never taking his eyes from mine. "Ol' Merle's jus' havin' a little fun. Wha's your name, sweetheart?"

The fact that I found a human being so physically repulsive in the world we were left to live in spoke volumes about the kind of man Merle Dixon was, and the dichotomy between him and Daryl was shocking. Before I answered Merle's inquiry, I looked to Daryl for guidance. He knew more about how to handle his brother than I ever would—thank the lord.

"Her name's Beth and ya know it," Daryl said, his sheer annoyance with his brother's games apparent. "Got no reason to talk to her or look at her, so back the fuck off." Daryl glanced at me over his shoulder, furrowing his brow. "What're ya doin' down here, anyhow, girl? Where's the baby?"

"I'm lookin' for Carol," I said, trying to catch my breath that was growing rapid from the fire in his eyes. "Laundry duty. Judy's with Maggie up in her bunk."

Daryl nodded his head once and pursed his lips before darting his eyes back to his brother, as Merle leaned back against the stone wall and rolled his eyes at Daryl's and my exchange like it was trying his patience. Daryl's gaze returned to mine for a brief second, then quickly skimmed my face and shoulders before slowly dragging down over the rest of my body.

My belly started to flip and twist in every way I never knew it could and my skin felt hot and tight. Daryl was looking at me like he'd never looked at me before. Merle's leering gaze made me feel dirty, but Daryl made me feel like I was floating and on fire at the same time.

"Get goin'," he said, tearing his eyes from mine. "Carol's waitin'." Then he turned his back, effectively dismissing me.

* * *

Three days after Andrea's odd visit to the prison with her walker in tow, she reappeared with Tyreese and his sister Sasha. We all joined in the main room for a meeting, where they declared that the Governor was dead at Andrea's hand, and that they wanted to join our group.

Merle snorted from the doorway across the room from me. "Tryna make us believe Martinez don't have some kinda retaliation in mind?" He rolled his eyes and shifted his weight and his rifle.

"Martinez is dead," Andrea said. "None of the survivors have any allegiance to Phillip. They've divided and scattered, just like we did when we left the quarry."

"Yeah, see, I don't 'member leavin' the quarry with y'all, 'cause I was stuck up on a damn roof in the middle of Atlanta," Merle sneered.

Rick all but rolled his eyes, ignoring Merle's jab, and Daryl narrowed his gaze, keeping Rick, Tyreese, and Merle all in his sight.

"Rick, we loaded up what supplies we could in the car you gave me," Andrea appealed to him. "We came here as soon as we could get away. Woodbury's overrun. It's done."

Rick cocked his head and brought his gaze back up to meet Daryl's for a few beats. Then they did that quiet nodding thing they always do, before Daryl looked back to Sasha, Tyreese, and Andrea, and picked up the conversation where Rick left off.

"Get that car cleaned out—take stock a supplies," Daryl said, then turned to Carol and me, his eyes quickly scanning my face. "Get 'em some food, some clothes—whatever they need."

I had accepted a long time ago that I wasn't a soldier, but I did everything in my power to keep our hearth fires burning. At that moment, the way Daryl looked at me, like I was an equal and valuable member of our group, made me wonder again why he ever left, and I was pissed at him all over again.

He looked at me like he trusted me, and I knew his trust was hard won. Having that trust filled me with pride and reinforced my hopes that I was delivering on my promise to make this place the kind of place that they would all want to come home to, and no one would ever want to leave again.

I pushed down my anger at him and started to do what I was told.

"We've got clothes, Carol." Andrea crossed the room and immediately reached for Carol's hand, halting us both.

Carol didn't hesitate to pull Andrea into a hug and they each held on tight, something intense passing between them.

I dropped my eyes away from the private moment and glanced across the room, from where Daryl was eyeing them sideways, something resembling satisfaction crinkling the corners of his eyes. The way his whole face transformed with that tiny, simple expression gave me pause; it was downright beautiful. I never would have thought I'd say any man was beautiful, least of all a man as rough as Daryl Dixon. I guessed that it was the contrast of light and dark that took my breath away.

I pulled my gaze from him before anyone caught me staring. "I'll get y'all some linens," I said, my voice quiet, so as not to disturb Andrea and Carol.

When I turned to leave the room, Andrea reached out and wrapped her arm around my shoulders to pull me in for a hug. "Thank you, Beth," she whispered. "Thank you for welcoming me home."

I relaxed into her embrace and hugged her back, closing my eyes and giving in to the feelings swirling around the room as they settled over us all. When I opened my eyes again, they landed on Daryl, his glued to mine, and a small beginning of a smile, softening his hard face.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Wow, y'all—thanks for the alerts and favorites and reviews! I'm so sorry for the extreme delay in updating. I had a friend's wedding this weekend with lots of visits and travel. But I love to hear from you, so keep leaving reviews, or drop me a PM to introduce yourself if you're shy.
> 
> If you haven't seen the Carol and Merle deleted scene that hit the internet last week, please go look for it on YouTube. I think that scene might settle some of y'all's concern or frustration with Carol over the "she's seventeen" comment. Also, check my profile for songs of inspiration for this fic, if you're into that kind of thing.
> 
> xox - MJ
> 
> Disclaimer: All copyright and trademarked items mentioned herein belong to their respective owners. The remaining content is mine.

"I always assumed I'd have one a my own some day," I told Andrea, wrapping Judith up tight with a blanket after her mid-morning change.

Andrea watched as I propped Judith up against one of my shoulders. "Maybe you will," she said, and I shrugged in response. Judith was a sign of hope for us all, but I didn't really think she was meant to show me that I'd have all the things in my life I'd always dreamed of having.

Andrea smiled, watching me start to clear away the surface up in Daryl's perch that sometimes served as Judith's changing area. She was such a beautiful, confident, and independent woman. I didn't think we were alike or anything, but I thought she might have some advice on what had me in a tizzy, so I had started spending time with her whenever I could.

I wondered if Andrea had ever been confused about her feelings for a guy. I especially wondered about what happened with the Governor in the end. When I learned she'd killed him, my confusion about how she could sleep with him to begin with grew considerably.

Maybe she had been using him the whole time. That thought made me uneasy, even in this new world, but I knew that we all had to do what we all had to do. Even though I could never imagine doing such a thing, her choices and actions saved us all, so I wasn't going to judge. It was one of the many examples of why I didn't know if I could ever be truly strong.

"She sure is gettin' to be a armful, isn't she?" I laughed, shifting Judith to my other shoulder with both hands, as I worked to straighten Daryl's area just the way I knew he liked.

Andrea's smile burst across her face and she reached out. "I can take her for a little while if you'd like," she said, and I gladly handed Judith over to her.

I could remember a time when Maggie didn't much like Andrea because of something I had done after Andrea tried helping me out, but I'd accepted that this life would be harder than the old one and promised my family that I wouldn't leave. It wasn't Andrea's fault she tried to help me; she was just treating me like an adult, after all—something that no one else had really ever done at that point. Still, I was grateful to her, and I wanted her opinion, no matter what my sister thought.

"You're an amazing young woman, Beth." Andrea spoke quietly as she watched me fold and put away the few pieces of clothing we had for Judith. "You should be very proud."

I felt myself blush under her praise. She'd called me a woman, even. I didn't quite know how to take what she was saying.

"Your whole family—you're all incredibly strong people," she said.

I agreed that Maggie was strong, and Daddy had been through Hell and back, even before the world ended. I was growing into my place among our group, for sure, but I wouldn't have said I was incredibly strong or amazing.

"Well, I know I'm no warrior," I said. "But I do know I can take care of our home and Judith, while the rest of you go out and fight. Make sure it's a place worth comin' home to."

Sometimes I thought it was a naïve feeling for me to have—wanting us all to be a happy family, when we all looked forward to a gruesome death. Regardless, my commitment had become more important to me since Daryl's and Andrea's respective rejoining with our family; it had become my mission. Andrea noticing it and telling me was a sign that maybe I was doing something right.

"You are a fighter, though," Andrea argued, catching my eye. "You're strong. You're just a different kind of fighter, and I hope you know how important you are."

I was buoyed by her compliments. The more she talked, the more anxious I became to talk to her about my butterflies over Daryl. "Thank you," I replied.

I wondered if Daryl noticed the same thing about me, too. I hoped he did. I'd caught him eyeing me lately, which was part of my confusion and wanting to talk to someone, because I didn't know how to interpret the looks he was giving me. Part of me felt like they were the same kind of looks Merle gave me, and part of me kept remembering Daryl's dismissals of me as a little girl.

"I once argued with Lori over this very issue," Andrea mused, pulling my attention back to our conversation. Her face took on a pained expression as she brushed her lips over Judith's downy head. "I was on the opposite side of the argument, saying that fighting and protecting the group was what mattered, and I… I didn't appreciate her enough." She lifted her watery eyes up to meet mine. "I won't make that same mistake again."

I blinked in surprise and a little of my own pain. The teenaged girl inside me yearned for my mama all over again. Lori had taken on that role and I had loved and admired her for everything she did for all of us.

It sounded like Andrea was implying that I could fill a similar role, although we all knew it was Carol who was the matriarch of our group these days. Even though I couldn't fathom being so strong, I hoped I could do the amazing women in my life some justice.

"We're all essential to this life," I said, even as I was just fully accepting my own role, and Andrea reached out and squeezed my hand, holding Judith in her arms.

Our bittersweet moment was cut short, once Daryl began his quick ascent, two steps at a time. Those butterflies flocked and swooped in my belly, when his eyes briefly met mine before quickly darting down and away.

"Hey, Daryl," I said, swallowing thickly, watching his gaze home in on Judith, ignoring Andrea and my emotional moment. "We're just finishin' up."

In one smooth motion, he pulled the strap of his crossbow over his head and toed his boots off and to the side, then brusquely reached out and took Judith from Andrea's arms. "She had a nap yet?" he asked, cradling Judith in the crook of one elbow as he shrugged out of his vest.

Judith grinned and gurgled and pushed her tiny fists up into his face, kicking her legs and squealing. He was her favorite, next to her daddy; Daryl was like a baby amusement park ride to her or something.

"No," I answered, watching him coddle Judith with a gentleness only he possessed, and that we'd all come to accept, but was still a sight for sore eyes.

Our daily life moved so quickly and brutally that some days we didn't even have a minute to think, let alone give or seek comfort. Daryl's ability to switch from cold, hard hunter and killer, to tenderly cradling an infant within mere minutes was a testament to the kind of man he really was at his core.

Every move he made was seamless, effortless, and absolutely earnest. Daryl was Rick's right hand for a reason and we all knew it. His instincts were stellar and he was never wrong—at least not in my eyes.

"She won't sleep long, though," I warned, watching him hold Judith to his chest with the tips of his fingers as he crossed his ankles and dropped to his butt onto his thin sleeping pallet. "An hour tops. She'll need t'eat soon and-"

"'S fine." He waved Andrea and me off, shifting then laying back with Judith already closing her eyes against his chest. "She'll be my 'larm clock, then. Won't ya, sweetheart?" he cooed quietly into her face. "Don't need to sleep all day, do we? Jus' get a little shut eye's all."

I'd seen Daryl with Judith a million times before, but I stood and watched him settle back and close his eyes with a sigh. He looked so cozy and warm, and I suddenly felt a little sleepy myself. I didn't realize I was staring until I felt Andrea's hand on my arm. I looked up at her and she nodded her head toward the staircase, so I pulled myself from my gawking-at-Daryl reverie long enough to follow Andrea's lead.

When we reached the bottom of the steps and started to make our way to the main meeting area, Andrea turned to face me. "If you'd asked me a year ago 'would you leave a four-month-old infant to nap with Daryl Dixon?', my answer would have been 'hell no', but now…" Andrea paused and glanced up to where Daryl and Judith were both fast asleep, then shifted her speculative gaze back to me. "This world has definitely changed us all."

I suspected she meant that this world had changed her opinion because Daryl was Daryl, and the way he was with Judith and everyone else came from his heart and soul and gut.

I followed her gaze, feeling that pang in my belly at the sight of Daryl doing something as ordinary as taking a nap with a baby. I never knew when this flurry would overtake me, but it was happening more and more every time he was within my line of sight or earshot. I closed my eyes and shook my head as if that would dislodge whatever was causing these flutters, or somehow knock the pieces into place to make sense and tell me what to do about it.

"Well, I'm headed up to relieve Sasha from watch," Andrea sighed. "Then again, maybe she'd rather stay on for a double and watch with Rick, the way they've been acting." Andrea joked, and I let out a small huff of laughter in acknowledgment, still torn with one eye watching Daryl sleep. "Are you going to try and take advantage of this sudden free time?" she asked, gesturing to where my attention was mostly rooted.

I took a deep breath, then looked her in the eye to try and answer. It seemed like an opportune moment for me to talk to her about what was on my mind, but I was suddenly unable to find the words. Andrea's look at that moment told me that she knew I was distracted, and by what. Some would call it a knowing smile.

"What?" I asked, caught like a kid with my hand in the cookie jar, shuffling my feet in place and avoiding her gaze. I had wanted to talk to her, but there I was, avoiding the talk like a scared cub.

"I could ask you the same thing," she replied with a wry smile, reaching out to gently tug me by my wrist away from the hall that lead up to Daryl's space. "You seemed distracted by Daryl just now. Is there something you want to talk about?" Her face was soft, but less teasing—almost concerned.

I was suddenly reversing in my mind—could hear that proverbial dump truck beeping as it backed up. I told myself that maybe I was making all these feelings and what-ifs up, or it was hormones, or maybe I should just talk to Maggie or Carol. I was starting to feel like a dumb little girl with a crush, but hadn't Andrea just called me a woman?

"I dunno what to say," I said, keeping my voice quiet and leaning against the wall. Andrea mirrored my stance and nodded quietly, encouragingly. "I guess… well, I dunno's all." My breath shook a little and I hazarded a glance into her eyes.

She was calm, until her brow furrowed. "Did something happen between you two?" she asked, troubled eyes searching my face.

"No!" I said, pushing away from the wall and starting to walk away. I was embarrassed and upset that she would think anything bad about Daryl or me from my flaky behavior. Her tone of voice implied something untoward. I worried that I'd misjudged confiding in her entirely.

"Beth, honey, I'm sorry," Andrea said, taking my wrist gently in her hand again. "I was just feeling my way around—trying to get you to talk, but if you don't want to, that's fine. Really. Just know that I'm here if you need to."

I turned to face her. "He's a good man," I asserted, and Andrea relaxed, releasing my wrist and nodding, her face shifting back into a soft smile. "And, I guess—I get confused sometimes, thinking maybe he might look at me like…"

Like,  _what_ , I couldn't put into words.

Andrea's brow furrowed again, but this time in confusion as opposed to concern. "Like, a woman?" she guessed.

I nodded, looking down at my feet, feeling embarrassed all over again and getting ready to flee. After all the talk of me looking after Judith and being so important and a woman, I was still just a 17-year-old girl, I guessed. Daddy thought there was something up with Carl and me, for goodness's sake, but I had thought Andrea thought of me differently.

"Beth," Andrea said, moving to stand square in front of me again, taking my hands in hers. "Sweetie, you  _are_  a woman. Especially in this day and age."

Surprised, my eyes flicked up to meet hers again. I was once again emboldened by her words, and reassured that I hadn't made the wrong decision in talking to her after all. "So, you don't think I'm some silly little girl?" I asked, testing the waters.

"No," Andrea shook her head, smiling. "I do not think you're a silly little girl, but," she paused, looking thoughtful. "Daryl  _is_  a good man, so no matter how much you and I know you  _aren't_  a little girl? He'll be hesitant." She looked me in the eye and nodded her head, silently asking me if I got her meaning.

"Ya think so?" I asked.

She nodded again. "Yes. He'll kick into protector mode, like he seems to be doing more and more these days." Her smile was blinding.

I sighed, relieved over just talking about what I was feeling, even though she was basically telling me that I didn't have a chance in this Hell we were living in.

"I don't even know what it is that I'm feelin' other than appreciation and admiration," I said, glad to be getting it all off my chest. "But it's different than the way I look at anyone else—I know that much. I get these… butterflies, and I don't know what to do."

Andrea's face brightened further with that smile and she squeezed my hand reassuringly. Her eyes sparkled and she nodded, encouraging me to keep talking.

"I just want 'im to know," I said, looking her in the eye, feeling myself ramp up with confidence at her understanding. "He should know what a good man he is."

She took a deep breath then let it out, a thoughtful expression crossing her face. "Let me ask you this: how do you see that knowledge, potentially coming from you, affecting your feelings for him or your relationship to him?" she asked.

I thought for a second, then shrugged. "I don't really know that part," I answered honestly. "I was kinda hopin' ya'd help me with that." I laughed nervously, and she answered with her own soft laughter.

She tilted her head and studied my face. "Daryl's come a long way, and I think even he's starting to believe those good things about himself," she said. "But it doesn't hurt to hear it."

"Ya think I should just walk up to 'im and tell 'im I think he's the bee's knees or somethin'?" I half-joked.

Andrea smiled again. "I don't know about that particular phrase, but I don't see why you should sulk around here or hide your feelings. You should explore them," she said with a final nod, holding my hands in hers. "Life is too short."

I nodded. "Any more advice?" I asked.

"Be honest," she said. "And don't get ahead of yourself. While I personally don't see anything wrong with what you're feeling and acting on it, Daryl's quite a bit older than you. And, as I said, that may affect his reaction significantly. Just keep that in mind."

Andrea's warning would prove to be closer to the truth than anything I could have imagined.

* * *

Two days after my talk with Andrea, I still hadn't been able to talk to Daryl. Whether it was my nerves, which had been slightly calmed by Andrea's support, or his constant avoidance of me, I wasn't sure. I swore to God that man was like Keyser Söze sometimes—he was right within arm's reach and then  _poof_ , he was gone.

I was actually starting to get annoyed. I felt on edge constantly and it was affecting my mood. I was so edgy that Carol finally confronted me one Sunday afternoon.

"Bethie, I'm gonna be straight with you, your level of distraction is off the charts, even for a teenage girl," she said with a wry grin, making me roll my eyes at her reminder of my age and hormone levels. "Wanna tell me what's up, or do I need to start playin' 20 Questions?"

"Got 18 more questions," I snapped, pretending to play along with her game.

After her recent commentary on my age and remembering what she'd said to Daryl after the shower incident, I wasn't sure I wanted to tell her what was going on at all. She could likely negate everything that Andrea had said to me, and even though I hadn't acted on what Andrea and I had discussed, I wasn't ready to let those thoughts go. I wanted to think there was a possibility that a man like Daryl Dixon could consider me a woman.

Carol looked half-stunned and half-amused at my sarcasm for a second. "What's gotten into you?" she asked, her tone suddenly serious. "You haven't seemed yourself lately at all. Not for weeks."

I sighed heavily, and looked everywhere but at Carol, scanning the area surrounding us for anyone who might come up on us or overhear. We seemed to be relatively alone, save for Michonne, who was walking the fence. I knew Michonne—even though she knew everything that went on—didn't much care about our personal drama. She was almost a female Daryl in that respect.

Finally, I turned to face Carol and I looked her in the eye. "'Member when I told you I was mad at Daryl for leavin', and you said he had his reasons?" I asked.

Carol nodded, fully focusing her gaze on my face. I could tell she was reading my every move at that point. "I do," she said. "'Cept I 'member you sayin'  _pissed_ , which brings me back to you not bein' yourself, so this is a good place t'start."

I took a deep breath. "Well, I been  _feelin'_  things," I said. "A lot of things and I don't know what to do about 'em."

Carol blinked. "Okay," she said, twisting at her waist and propping one hip onto the surface of one of the picnic tables in the secured yard. "What kinda things?"

My belly flipped, and not in the fun Daryl's-playing-with-the-baby way. Carol looked even more concerned than Andrea had looked just a couple days before. I was so hesitant to tell her what feelings I was feeling that they all just tumbled out of my mouth.

"Can't stop starin' at Daryl," I said, shrugging one shoulder, avoiding her eyes and the temptation to list off all the things I'd been staring at. "Butterflies in my belly, 'specially when he's with Judith, wishin' he'd leave and stay all at once." My voice was a quiet rush, and I barely heard myself, as I eyed her sideways.

Carol sat stock still and studied me quietly, her head tilted and her brow lightly furrowed. She didn't say anything, though, and that made my jitters fly sky-high. My worries about her thinking I was too young or naïve or silly morphed into anger at her, then.

"I know whatchyer thinkin'," I said, and she straightened up and arched one brow.

"Ya do?" she asked, an amused half-smile curving her lips, annoying me further.

I nodded. "Ya think I'm too young," I said, turning to busy my hands with the laundry we were folding. "I heard ya say it to 'im."

"Oh? When was that, exactly?" Carol asked, standing away from the table again and watching me frantically fold and pile shirts and pants.

"After I took 'em all their clothes to the showers, right after Daryl and his brother got back," I said, and Carol sighed and all but rolled her eyes.

"You did!" I accused. "You told Daryl to watch his brother and that I was  _17-years-old_ , but I'm gonna be 18 next week, Carol-"

"Bethie." She interrupted me with her words and a hand on my forearm. "Listen to me for a second, okay?" She ducked her head to look me in the eye for confirmation that I was listening.

I dropped the T-shirt I was tightly gripping to the tabletop, then finally nodded with an exasperated exhale of breath.

" _Daryl_  Dixon and  _Merle_  Dixon are two  _very_  different men," she asserted, fiercely arching her brows over the fire in her eyes. "Let's get that straight right up front."

Her words sank deep into my thoughts as her hand closed more tightly around my wrist. I'd always taken it for granted that the Dixons were different from each other—assumed, I guessed—but Carol was making a real effort in that moment to make sure I understood just how different they really were. I looked her straight in the eye and nodded.

"When I said those things to Daryl, I was speakin' specifically about Merle," she said, her grip, loosening slightly from my wrist. "And I was speakin' specifically  _to_  Daryl; I had no idea you were listenin' in."

"I'm sorry," I apologized, and dropped my gaze to where our hands had lightly clasped together. "Ya'd told me to go find Daddy, but... I was just spun over the shower situation."

"I mean, 17 in this world is like 30 in the old one, but Merle Dixon needs to keep his distance, was my point," she said, cocking her head to the side, indicating that we should rest against the tabletop. I followed her lead, and she watched me closely as she continued. "More than just Merle tauntin' ya is what ya mean by the  _shower situation_ , I presume."

I nodded, then looked up at her. "I didn't know seein' a man without his clothes on would affect me that way," I confessed in an almost-whisper, and Carol's eyes grew wide for a split second, then crinkled around the edges from the huge smile that spread across her face.

She patted my hand with hers. "You are growin' up." She reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. "There's no way ya haven't started to learn about men and their desires." Then she paused, her eyes losing focus, before she looked out over the yard, dropping her free hand from my hair to where our hands were joined between where we sat on the table.

"You're on the cusp of girlhood and womanhood," she said, her voice sounding shaky for a second before she cleared her throat and swallowed, then looked back at me. "But I don't see anythin' wrong with what you're feelin'."

"Really?" I brightened, even as Carol's eyes were a bit misty. "I talked to Andrea, too, and she said the same thing."

"That doesn't surprise me," she said, smiling. "What else she say?"

"She told me to be honest and to not rush anything," I said. "And that Daryl's a good man and he'd probably refuse to accept it." I laughed a little and rolled my eyes.

Carol chuckled. "Isn't that the truth," she murmured with a slight nod, then turned her head to look me in the eye, squinting away the glare from the setting sun. "The bigger issue with Daryl's gonna be  _Daryl_ —not you or your age—if you get my meaning."

I nodded; Daryl wouldn't be as easy to convince that I wasn't a little girl as Andrea and Carol had been. I didn't even know how I felt about him, exactly, except that seeing him and hearing him and just thinking about him made my insides twirl and spin, and I was realizing that I was going to need his participation in that process if I was going to figure those feelings out. Getting him to cooperate was going to the biggest challenge of them all.

"He thinks I'm just a kid," I said sadly, looking down at our hands clasped beside my thigh, then I saw Carol tilt her head in my peripheral vision and I looked up.

"I dunno about  _that_." She shot me a wry glance. "But I doubt he's had a lot of relationship experience, which is what makes him so hesitant in so many ways."

"Well, neither have I," I said with a shrug, disbelieving her words. Daryl was a good-looking man, even by pre-end-of-the-world standards. Sure, he was surly and sometimes abrupt, but he was strong and a superior tracker and hunter. I imagined he would've been a catch back where he was from.

"Exactly," she said, with an almost ominous tone.

We finished the laundry, then delivered all the right clothes to all the right places. That night in my bunk, I couldn't help but roll my brain over Carol's facial expression when she said that she doubted that Daryl thought of me as a child, and her tone when I agreed that I didn't have a lot of relationship experience. She seemed to know something I didn't and her comments about Daryl's own lack of experience added a whole new dimension to my anxiety.

Still, Andrea's and Carol's agreeing with me on the basic level made me feel like I was making some headway with the confused thoughts and feelings that had been warring in mind mind and my gut for the past several weeks. The only next step I could make was to talk to Daryl, and I knew just how to start that conversation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, Leiah and Brodie for your pre-reading skillz, and MsKathy for the redness of your glorious pen.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: ZOMGGG YOU GUYS REEDUS IS A BETHYL SHIPPER  
> http://comicbook.com/blog/2013/08/11/norman-reedus-exclusive-interview-walking-dead-boondock-saints-iii-comic-book-movies/
> 
> Please keep in mind that this is totally AU after the brothers get back to the prison, and this fic is categorized as 'Romance', so I won't be putting anyone in grave danger as a plot point. I've neutralized a lot of the horror aspects of canon TWD in the best interest of exploring a budding romance between Beth and Daryl.
> 
> Disclaimer: All copyright and trademarked items mentioned herein belong to their respective owners. The remaining content is mine.

Early the next morning after Carol and I had talked and I'd decided that I had everything all figured out, I realized I didn't have anything figured out at all.

I knew I wanted to tell Daryl that he was a good man—the best. I wanted to tell him that I'd missed him when he left. I wanted to say that he meant something special to me, and that I saw him the way that a woman sees a man. That all seemed simple, when I was talking to Andrea and Carol, but as I watched him leave for a hunt, the wings of his vest fading into the misty glow just before dawn, the possibilities of how he'd receive that information twisted my gut into knots.

I had to do it, though. I wanted to and I had to, for my own sanity if nothing else. I thought maybe it was selfish of me to put that kind of responsibility on him—to dump my feelings in his lap, but I had to know what he was thinking.

I spent the better part of the day working over scenario after scenario in my brain. Anybody who knew Daryl knew you didn't take him something that didn't need fixing. The more I thought about it, my biggest fear was that he'd think what I was feeling was a problem to be solved. I definitely wanted him to react, to engage, but the last thing I wanted was for him to shut it down or push me away, thinking it was wrong.

I processed what Andrea had said about Daryl being older than me, and that affecting how he'd react, with what Carol had said about his lack of experience. Those two things seemed to contradict each other, but they also seemed to match somehow. In all the ways I'd seen Daryl react and take part in anything, there was something so raw about it, like every time was his first time, but he wasn't backing down. He was brave and strong, even in the face of things that were new and frightening.

The thought that Daryl had lived his life so far without the love and companionship of a woman made me sad. He was so full of passion, so solid and fierce, and I could not even fathom that I was the first woman to notice him or want him and want to show him what he meant to the world.

Sometimes I wondered why Carol didn't pursue him. Her words of understanding when he left us for Merle shed light on a hidden connection they shared that I would likely never understand. The way they communicated and moved together was almost a mirror image in a way. It was as if they were long-lost twins.

"Ready when you are," Carol said with a smile, popping her head into my cell and pulling me from my thoughts. I nodded in agreement, finishing up with changing Judith. Carol and I had weeding in the garden to do that day, and I needed to be sure Judith's arms and legs were covered so she didn't get sunburned.

"How ya holdin' up?" Carol asked. I glanced at her as I pulled a light long-sleeve shirt over Judith's head and arms and reached for her sling.

"I'm good. Jus' kinda inside my own head today," I replied, and Carol nodded.

Out in the garden, we worked quietly in tandem. Carol was respecting my peace and quiet, I guessed. The simple thought that Daryl was entirely inexperienced in the realm of romance continued to ping in my mind. It made me sad, but it also opened up a whole new world of possibilities to me.

As Judith burrowed into my chest, I let the giddy, wistful corner of my mind float over fantasies of him responding in a completely unexpected but favorable way. What if he took me in his arms and told me he'd been waiting for me to say those words to him—told me he'd been feeling the same way, watching me, longing for me? The thought made me blush out of childish naïveté, dreaming that he'd sweep me off my feet and we'd live happily ever after. I shook my head and sighed at my momentary whimsy, but let myself enjoy it.

Regardless of how he reacted, I was determined to convince him that I wasn't a child. As much as I hoped he wouldn't, I had to accept that was likely where he'd go first, and judging by Andrea's and Carol's feedback, they thought the same. I decided my main objective would be to get him past that roadblock first and foremost.

Judith shifted against me, grunting and cooing, so I decided to take a break from the sun and dirt to get her inside for a midday feeding and change. I told Carol I'd be back in a bit, and she nodded in agreement.

On my way inside, I saw Rick and Tyreese, walking the fence and talking. It reminded me of what we all saw slowly building between Rick and Ty's sister Sasha. I was happy for Rick. We all missed Lori something awful and I was beyond worried about him after we lost her; I thought we'd lose him, too. Sasha seemed to be bringing him back, slowly but surely.

I was also reminded of the tiny peeks I'd sneaked of Ty and Carol. After all the words Carol and I'd exchanged over my feelings for Daryl, we hadn't talked about her and Ty, but I was following her lead on that. I thought maybe she wasn't ready to talk about it, or maybe I was off base with my assumption, but I didn't think I was.

I sat down in the main room once Judith's bottle was ready and I had her out of her sling. She settled in my arms and I worked the nipple of the bottle between her warbling lips.

"C'mon, now, darlin'," I said. "Take your lunch." She took to the bottle almost immediately.

I watched Judith eagerly drink and thought to myself that not a one of us were getting rid of the virus any time soon, and the world wasn't getting any less dangerous. Every minute that passed and every thought and image that crossed my mind that day reinforced the feeling that I was just wasting time avoiding Daryl.

Andrea was right; life was too short, and Daryl and I both had a lot of living to do.

* * *

Just around sunset, the rumbling of Daryl's Triumph rolled through the haze of the late afternoon sun and lush green of the trees for a good five minutes before he appeared. I'd asked Sasha to take Judith for me, not telling her that it was because I didn't want to be interrupted while Daryl and I talked, and she gladly took her from me without needing a reason.

I was familiar with Daryl's after-hunt ritual; he'd come through the gates and hand his kills to Carol or me. That night, I made sure I wasn't available for the hand-off, though. After I watched Carol take the meat from him, I slowly trailed behind him as he headed down the corridor to the yard to clean his bolts.

It was almost dark and he was alone when I finally joined him. I couldn't believe my luck, and I took it as a sign that it was now or never.

"Hey," I said by way of greeting, and Daryl looked up at me with his usual expression of concentration, intensely furrowing his brow. Recognition dawned on his face, the tense ridges smoothed, his shoulders relaxed, and his eyes… God, I could almost feel them caressing my collarbones and arms and hips. "How's the hunt?" I asked quietly.

Daryl didn't talk much to anyone, but it had always been easy for me to talk to him about things like his hunt or the weather. The past couple of weeks, since he'd been back with Merle, had been slightly strained, though, and I blamed myself for part of that, obviously. I didn't want things to be strained between us anymore, which was just one of the reasons I'd gone out there.

Daryl's eyes fluttered slightly as I drew near, but he refocused his attention to his bolts as he shuffled his feet and cleared his throat. "Not bad," he replied, flicking his gaze to where I came to a stop at the opposite side of the table. I absently acknowledged that it was the same table Carol and I had talked just the day before.

I nodded. "Been a lot less bugs t'clean from the meat lately," I said with a soft huff of laughter.

Daryl pursed his lips and bobbed his head. "Cooler weather," he said, his eyes scanning the yard. I wondered what he was looking for. He had the posture and appearance of a wary, cornered animal. I didn't know what on earth I could be doing to intimidate Daryl Dixon of all people, but I decided that moment was as good a time as any to do what I went out there to do.

I drew in a deep breath. "I was pissed at you, ya know," I said, watching him closely for his reaction.

He shot me a startled glance that quickly shifted to amusement. His brow slowly arched and he chuckled. "Yeah?" He shifted his weight from foot to foot as he dropped the newly cleaned bolt to the table and picked up another to clean. "Wha'for?" he asked with a smirk and a sideways glance.

"Ya just up'n left without sayin' a word to no one," I answered.

"Went huntin'," he said, clearly confused. "That ain't nothin' new, darlin'."

"Not today," I said with a tone in my voice that I could tell conveyed my annoyance. "Before—after Woodbury."

Both Daryl's eyebrows shot upward and he popped his tongue into the side of his cheek, eyeing me speculatively. After a few beats, he leisurely shrugged one massive shoulder then turned his attention back to his task.

"Said plenty t'Rick," he grunted, surprising me. For a minute there, I thought he was going to ignore my confrontation, or tell me to mind my own business. The fact that he wasn't outright dismissing me bolstered my hopes that going out there to once and for all lay to rest his treatment of me as a child might not be the mountainous challenge I'd assumed it would be.

"Maybe you did," I said. "But ya never thought about us back here. Didn't even s'much as come back t'say goodbye."

He slowly shook his head and gnawed at the inside of his bottom lip, seemingly limiting his concentrating to the cleaning of his bolts, but he was uneasy. He kept shifting and fidgeting, and looking around us like we were out in the open instead of safely inside the prison fence.

"And how d'ya know what I was thinkin'?" He shot his gaze up to meet mine, and I shivered. His eyes were intense and laser-focused. His body may have been doing all kinds of nervous twitching, but those eyes…

"Well, I…" I paused, letting his stare pin me in place and almost letting it deter me, but I swallowed down my hesitation and pushed forward. "I guess I don't know for a fact, but ya just ran off with that brother a yours-"

"Hold your tongue, girl." His voice was calm and quiet, and his gaze swept over me for a brief second, making his point. "Tha's my brother you're talkin' 'bout, and we both old 'nough to be your daddy." His eyes met mine and trapped me once again. "Turn you over m'knee."

He shook his head again and looked back down at the rag and bolts in his hands, and it was like a bomb went off in my head. His shallow threat of punishment for disrespecting my elders was a deflection, and I was suddenly so angry that he insisted on reverting back to treating me like a child.

"You'll do no such thing," I insisted, and his posture faltered. "I ain't a little girl, Daryl."

He scoffed and rolled his eyes, grabbing for another bolt, then shot me another sideways glance. He was clearly uncomfortable, but I didn't care. I went out there to make a point, and I wasn't going to let him brush me off.

"One minute ya trust me with important stuff, praise me for doin' somethin' good, and the next minute ya just write me off as a child!" He nervously shifted his gaze, watchful and cautious, but he didn't respond. I braced my hands on the table. "Turn me over your knee?!" I was outraged. "No. Ya can't keep treatin' me like a child. I'm a grown woman, and I have an opinion-"

"Damn it, girl!" He tossed the filthy rag to the table and gritted his teeth. "I don't gotta answer t'you 'bout nothin'." His brow was furrowed and his chest was heaving when his eyes met mine again. "I came back, didn't I?"

I stood up straight as he started to pace, hands on his hips, and staring me down. He looked angry. I thought maybe I'd pushed him too far. I watched until he was done pacing, when he stopped and stared down at his dirty hands resting on the tabletop.

After a few moments, I spoke, breaking the tension a little. "Ya did," I replied to his insistence that he'd come home. "And I'm glad, but, like I said, I'm not lettin' ya treat me like a kid anymore. What I think and how I feel is important."

Daryl hung his head, turning it back and forth as he exhaled slowly, and I walked around the table to stand next to him. "And so are you. I wish ya'd take my word for it."

He cocked his head to the side and stared out toward the fence where a walker was pulling on the chain link in a vain attempt at getting inside. I followed his gaze and we were both quiet for a minute.

"Carol's right," I said after we'd relaxed a little. "World needs more men like you."

Daryl scoffed and stood up straight, turning his defeated gaze back to me. "Dixon men weren't never nothin' the world needs more of."

"You're wrong," I argued, facing him, almost toe-to-toe. "We wouldn't be alive weren't for you. We'd all've starved to death by now."

Daryl shrugged again, never looking away. "Jus' did what needed t'be done," he told me. He looked so tired. All I wanted was to comfort him, let him rest, and make him believe that he deserved it.

"Maybe you need some convincin'," I said, holding his gaze and angling closer to him.

His eyes glazed over for a second before slowly dropping to my mouth and lazily traveling down over my body. Then he nodded, bringing his gaze back up to meet mine, as his middle finger came up to tap at his bottom lip. "What kinda convincin'?" he asked, his voice low and his eyes unexpectedly narrow and hard. "'Cause I ain't playin' no games, little girl."

I drew in a shaky breath. "Told ya I ain't a little girl," I said.

Daryl's eyes heated, and I felt a sense of pride. Then he shifted into something feral and predatory. With the full-force of his gaze on me, I felt myself back into the table behind me.

"That right?" he asked, advancing on me. ""N wha'do ya gonna do t'convince me?" He came to a stop just a hair's breath in front of me, heating my skin and chilling my bones. "Hmm?"

I tried to shrug and meet his gaze directly, but I felt myself trembling under his stare. He was trying to intimidate me, and while I was committed to seeing my plan all the way through, I was definitely starting to second-guess myself.

"We owe ya our lives," I repeated my earlier mantra, breathing heavy as his eyes roamed my face and down again. I closed my own eyes before I could determine exactly where he was looking or what he might be thinking.

"And ya, what?" He braced a hand on the table next to my hip, leaning in, his knee barely brushing in between mine. "Wanna repay me, is that it?" I couldn't speak to answer, and he was so, so close. I felt my hair standing on end. Then his voice got even quieter. "I'ma ask ya again," he said, land I opened my eyes to steel-blue. "What're ya gonna do?"

I took a deep breath and squared my shoulders. "You're a man," I said, and he smirked and nodded. "A good man, and ya deserve someone to honor you and make this a life worth livin'," I said, setting my jaw, determined to finish what I started.

I glanced down ay his hand beside my hip and slid my fingers over his on the table. He dropped his gaze to where our fingers were now loosely entwined, and I turned my face into his. My instincts telling me to lean in, our lips drawing closer.

But before we could connect, Daryl jumped back, eyes wild and mouth agape.

"Ya wanna play house, that it?" he asked, pacing in circles again, and shaking his head like mad. "Shit, we're talkin' teenage girl fantasies."

He snatched up his clean and dirty bolts and turned his back to make his way toward the prison door.

"I told ya," I said, following him across the courtyard. "I ain't a little girl." He shot me a withering look, but I kept after him.

He stopped dead in his tracks and I ran smack into his back. He let out an exasperated sigh and clenched his fists. "Beth," he said, his voice quiet. He slowly drew in another breath, as I came around to face him. "Darlin'… I  _know_  y'ain't. But you're half my age—less than—and I-"

"Then what was that about back there?" I demanded, catching his eye, and jutting my thumb over my shoulder, referring to him pinning me to the table like prey. "Y'were gonna take me up on my offer, if I just wanted to…?"

He stared at me like I was an idiot for a beat. "I wa'n't gonna take you up on nothin'," he insisted. "You're damn crazy, girl—just a baby. Your daddy'd beat my ass from here to Alabama with jus' his one damn leg, and I'd let 'im." He stood staring at me, breathing hard.

I shook my head at his blatant denial. "But ya've thought about it," I said, and he grit his teeth. "Daryl, I'ma be 18 next week, and even if I wasn't? This world we're living in—ain't no one a helpless child anymore."

Daryl crossed his arms over his chest, one hand full of bolts and the other pushing a thumbnail tightly between his teeth as he listened. "How can ya think I'm a baby after everythin' I've seen—everythin' that's happened?" I shook my head, never breaking eye contact. He needed to know I meant what I said and that I knew what he was thinking. "No more games. I know ya've thought about it. I  _know_  ya have."

He ripped his thumbnail with his teeth and spat it to the ground, dropping his arms back at his sides. He took one last look at me, up and down, then shook his head and turned his back to storm off, leaving me in the yard to stew. And I fully realized with utter clarity that he was feeling the same things I was feeling, and he was just as scared as I was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you Leiah and Brodie for once again supporting me in finding the right balance with exactly how far Beth will go to get what she wants and needs. Thank you MsKathy for everything. xox


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Hi guys! Thanks for sticking with me. I'm glad you're still liking it. I think we're moving in the right direction with this one. Let me know if you agree!
> 
> Disclaimer: All copyright and trademarked items mentioned herein belong to their respective owners. The remaining content is mine.

Take my hand

I'm standin' right here

Ya gotta hold on

\- Tom Waits,  _Hold On_  


He was scared. That thought continued to blow my mind for days. It never occurred to me that Daryl Dixon would be afraid of anything, least of all me. The thought might have boosted my self-esteem—that I could affect a man like him in such a big way—but it just made me sad.

I didn't want to scare him. I wanted to make him feel good and important and loved—to settle his mind and heart.

I watched him over the following days, as he interacted with our family and went on about his business as our guardian and protector. I couldn't get Carol's words, that Daryl didn't have a lot of relationship experience, out of my mind, though. I couldn't reconcile the man that I was starting to fall for with the picture she had painted.

I decided it was best to keep my distance from him for a while—for both of us to let these confusing feelings and revelations sink in. I didn't feel much like talking anyway, so even though I'd told him I didn't want to play games, the idea of leaving the ball in his court seemed like a good one. I knew he wouldn't make a move, and I needed time to think.

"Bethie?" Daddy was next to me at the dinner table, nudging me with a bowl of corn. When I looked up his eyebrows were high on his forehead with concern. "Take it'n pass." He said, handing me the bowl.

"Sorry," I said under my breath, taking some of the corn onto my own plate then passing the bowl to Maggie on my right.

I tried to bring my thoughts back to the moment. I was relaxing into the past few days, thinking about something other than basic survival, but Daddy's expression reminded me that I shouldn't be daydreaming; we had too much going on for silly dreams.

"Thanks, sis," Maggie said, her voice close to my ear and her shoulder bumping mine.

I looked up into her face, and she was staring right through me, a small smile in her eyes and on her lips. After a beat of holding my gaze, her eyes drifted to Daryl, where he sat perched on the stairs leading to the exit, digging into his own bowl with his fingers. He sucked his first two fingers and his thumb between his lips every few minutes for some aggravating reason. I wished he'd use a damn fork.

Merle stood behind him, picking his teeth and looking out the small square window on the door. His brother still unnerved me. I wasn't afraid of him as much as annoyed. I knew he couldn't hurt me—Daryl and Rick and Glenn would never let him—but he just wouldn't shut up and he stared at me way too much for my liking.

My eyes following Maggie's, to where the Dixon brothers lingered, dragged me right back into my fantasy world once again. The longing I'd felt slowly building was like a boulder in my chest. I dropped my gaze to my plate, blinking back the impending tears and pushing my food around to busy myself. After I'd decided that I couldn't fake eat another bite, I got up to start clearing away the dishes.

"Thank ya, Beth," Rick spoke quietly, smiling up at me from his seat, as I took his plate and fork. I smiled back at him, thinking about all he'd been through and lost and how happy he seemed with his baby girl, and his pride in his son. I was envious of his openly blossoming relationship with Sasha, though. They were allowing themselves to feel and explore, while I was stuck crushing on a man who didn't know how to take a simple compliment, let alone accept any kind of affection.

When I got back around to Daddy, he was watching me closely. Then he knocked me off kilter with his words. "My girls are women now," he said, seemingly out of the blue and sounding like he'd surprised himself, as well.

"Daddy," I said, awkwardly shifting the plates as Carol joined me in clearing the table. I could swear that all eyes were on me at that point, and I was especially aware of Daryl's, hot and intense, from across the room. It was like I could feel him pushing and pulling me with his gaze. I flicked my own eyes up to meet his and he quickly looked away, down into his bowl.

"I'm sorry," Daddy said, shaking his head, looking like he was as embarrassed as I felt. "I don't mean t'make ya blush, but it occurred to me that in the middle of this Hell, you both are beautiful, thrivin' women, and I'm so proud."

"Well, ya should be," Rick chimed in, smiling at Daddy and me. "We've all worked hard and we wouldn't have what we have without each other." Then Rick's eyes locked on mine. "I'm forever grateful t'ya, Beth, for takin' such care of Judith like ya do."

I smiled again. "It's an honor," I said to Rick. "And she's easy." I shrugged and laughed, a soft mix of chuckles filtering through the room from everyone present as Judith cooed and gurgled from Rick's arms.

The moment passed, but I couldn't deny that something had changed from it. Their subtle words and sentiments felt significant—like my daddy and the leader of our group were validating my rite of passage to womanhood. I also couldn't deny that Daryl's gaze vibrated all around me for the rest of the evening like it never had before.

* * *

"Ladies, this is a bounty," Michonne said with a broad smile. She had come out to help Carol and me, and get a feel for what went on in the garden. I was pretty proud that she was pleased, and it seemed that Carol was as well.

"Thank you!" Carol said. "It's good to have this space. My biggest concern is keepin' it irrigated." Michonne nodded.

Then, after a few minutes of peaceful silence, Michonne bristled, like some kind of internal alarm went off. Her eyes were wide and her body was rigid as she slowly turned away from Carol and I to look out over the expanse of land surrounding the prison gates.

That was when my concerns for whether I wasn't giving basic survival enough thought were brought back to the forefront in vivid Technicolor and surround sound. A herd of walkers were approaching and gathering just outside the fence not 20 yards from where we were pulling the day's vegetables. It hadn't gone unnoticed by Merle and Andrea up on watch, either, but that didn't mean I wasn't alarmed.

Carol grabbed my hand and our vegetables dropped to the ground. Before we could act further, Rick, Daryl, Merle, and Andrea were surrounding us. Then Michonne put a piece of rebar in my hands and started to talk. "Hold on tight," she said. "But move with it. Keep your distance, and aim for the eye socket." She looked me in the eye as she held my hand in hers. "You can do this, Beth."

I nodded, breathing heavy and gripping the bar in my fists. Then Michonne let me go and ran toward the fence, pulling her katana from its sheath.

I nervously searched for Daryl's gaze, but didn't have to look for long. The second I caught his eye, he was steadily moving toward me, crossbow over one shoulder and his own rebar in hand. I couldn't place the look on his face, but it made my belly flip in that way it always does when he's close.

He tucked his bar under his arm then reached out and adjusted my hands on my own. "Take y'time," he said quietly, holding my eyes with his. "Focus." His fingers wrapped around mine and squeezed, holding my hands in place. "Like Michonne said, aim f'the eyes." His brow raised and he nodded, asking for my understanding. I swallowed thickly and nodded back, feeling a warm tingle spread from our joined fingers up my arms and through my whole body.

He released his grip and we turned to join the others at the fence. Glenn and Maggie had come from seemingly nowhere, which was good, because there were so many walkers—teeth snapping and fingers curling and yanking at the chain links. There weren't as many as had taken down the farm, but I hadn't seen so many in one place since that terrible night. I closed my eyes and shivered as Daryl and I drew near the rest of the group.

"'M right behind ya, girl." His voice was quiet in my ear—just for me. "Breathe," he said, and I did. "Aim high." My breath shook and I nodded. I'd fired a gun; I'd run from walkers; but I'd never been this close and heated, striking with hand-to-hand weapons.

He guided me next to Carol and I could feel his heat behind me, and his hands on my hips. I raised my arms overhead and took aim.

Daryl kicked my feet wide, one slightly in back of the other. "Keep y'hips in line, back foot planted, pivot on your front," he continued, tapping my forward heel with the toe of his boot, his thumbs burning into my tailbone. Then he twisted my body and kneed me in the back of my forward leg. "Keep it tight—twist'n thrust."

I closed my eyes and followed the motions and his voice, not sure of all the instructions, but getting the general gist and the motions he'd put me through. When I opened my eyes, my target was mere feet in front of me, eyes like clouded quartz rock, mangled skin and lips, and a stench that none of us would ever get used to, but Daryl's voice and hands and body were so close.

I felt strong and stable in the face of the danger, even when his hands left my hips and his heat faded from my back. I could still hear his voice. "G'on, Beth. Jus' like I said." And I took my first close-range shot.

I felt and heard the soft tissue and cartilage give and break under my force. The walker immediately stilled and slumped against the fence, pulling the front of the bar downward and wrenching my arms up.

"Hold ont'it, girl," Daryl practically growled. "Hold on tight—pull up'n back!"

I gripped the bar tighter with my sweating palms. It slipped slightly as I pulled, hard as I could, hearing the wet sucking of flesh releasing the steel bar. As the tip of the bar cleared the fence, I stumbled back into Daryl and he caught me.

I almost laughed out loud, I was so proud of myself, and I turned to face him. Before I could think of what I was doing or if I should be doing it, my arms were wrapped around his neck and my lips were on his cheek. "Oh, my god!" I squealed.

Daryl looked stunned for a second, but his warm hands slowly gripped my hips, one squeezing rhythmically.

Andrea was suddenly at our side, then, nodding toward the herd. "Nice work, but can we celebrate later?" She grinned and shook her head, then moved to take out her own walker.

I looked back up at Daryl, who was slowly pushing me away only to readjust the bar in my hand and give me one more nod of reassurance. "Take that bar'n do that thing ya just did a few more times," he said with a smirk. "Did real good, girl."

I smiled, then turned and went through those same motions as many times as was needed. At the end of it all, we'd taken out 50 walkers. I was riding high on adrenaline and could feel my muscles would be sore later, but the sense of accomplishment I felt and hearing those words from Daryl—that I 'did real good'—had me walking on a swirling cloud all the way back to the prison door.

"Thanks," I said, reaching for Daryl's hand and catching his pinky and ring finger. I felt light as air.

He seemed unsure of what to do next, shifting away from me, but not pulling his fingers from my grasp. He was doing that thing again that he'd done a few days before when we were alone in the yard—wild eyes, pleading for the others not to leave us alone.

I shook my head and rolled my eyes. "Daryl, I jus' wanted t'thank ya. With  _words_. Ya don't hafta look like I'm about t'take a bite outta ya." I released his hand with a chuckle, the rush of recent events overshadowing the repercussions from my confusion and disappointment after Daryl and my last talk. I was living in the moment, and right then, I just wanted to celebrate my victory.

"Shit, son—girl's practically beggin' for it," Merle crowed, coming from behind us, smirking and leering at me. "If ya ain't man enough, then getchyer pansy ass outta the way an' let some'n else take a crack at 'er."

Daryl stopped dead in his tracks next to me, and I saw Andrea pause, reaching for Rick, looking like she was about to say something herself. Daryl beat her to it.

"What I say?" Daryl's voice was deadly soft, as he moved into Merle's path, cutting him off. Merle looked like he was about to burst into a fit of laughter. Even in the rush and confusion of adrenaline and emotion, I knew he was just trying to mess with Daryl and me—like he was always trying to mess with someone. I didn't want his arrogance and blundering to get in the way of my celebration, though. I tried to stop Daryl from moving in further, but before I could, Carol stepped in and held me back.

"Whatcha talkin' 'bout, lil brother?" Merle taunted, licking his lips and darting his eyes to the side to leer at me once more. They stood toe-to-toe, Daryl's jaw set, melting steel through his brother's skull. The tension between them was daunting to say the least, and it pushed the rush I was feeling even higher.

Rick and Andrea wandered closer, listening intently. I looked around to see that Glenn and Maggie had already made it inside, which was probably a good thing; Glenn hated Merle so much.

"Don't touch 'er," Daryl continued quietly. "Don't talk to 'er, don't look at 'er." He paused, breathing deep, nostrils flaring. "Don't even fuckin'  _think_  about 'er."

Merle laughed again. "And whatcha gonna do 'bout it there, Darylina," he said, suddenly steely-eyed, himself. The mood shifted again to something less teasing on Merle's behalf to something much more threatening. "Gonna pull that bow on me again? Huh?"

Daryl shook his head once, but didn't break eye contact with Merle. "None a these women want ya, and that tears ya up," Daryl said with a bob of his head and a slightly cruel smirk of his own—one I didn't like seeing on his kind face. "If they did, they'd stand up for themselves'n come t'ya; tha's the kinda women we got here. So jus' back the fuck off."

Two more beats passed before Merle snorted and broke their staring game. Then Daryl shifted his rebar and crossbow and turned his gaze on me. He nodded toward the door and Carol and I moved.

I was chilled, and I guessed it was the crash of adrenaline. That and the sound of Merle's voice as he continued to taunt his brother from afar.

"Kinda like that lil piece is doin' t'ya," Merle said, as he wandered in the opposite direction of the prison. "Pussy..."

His ridiculing voice rang through my mind. Daryl had probably heard those kinds of words and that tone of voice his whole life—since he was just a boy. His scars, the way he gripped the strap of his crossbow like a security blanket even when there wasn't a walker in sight, and Carol's assertion that he'd probably never had a relationship made sense to me all of a sudden.

As we all went our separate ways inside the prison, thankfully minus Merle, I watched Daryl walk away from me—again—and I thought about what Daddy had said about his own terrible childhood and the abuse he'd endured. If Daddy could come away from that life and be the loving man and father that I knew and loved, I had hope that Daryl could, too. I hoped that he would see the way soon.

* * *

The night after I'd taken out my first, second, and third walkers, up close and personal, I sat on the steps in block D, surrounded by my family with Judith in my arms. There was new concern and talk about the way the walkers were grouping. I didn't want to think about what it meant that they seemed to be adapting or, God forbid, learning. I didn't want to think that there was any way they could still hold significant human aspects or be rehabilitated—not after the barn—so I didn't.

I focused on what I'd told myself to focus on, and what was becoming more and more important every day—surviving and helping others to survive and thrive. I wanted Judith to grow up knowing she was loved, and I wanted everyone else in our group to know how important they were.

My thoughts and feelings for Daryl had taken up residence in my heart in such a way that I knew they wouldn't be going anywhere any time soon, if ever. I wanted him, more than anyone, to know what he meant to us, and even though our talk had discouraged me from trying, I was determined to get back on that horse.

The way he'd touched me and looked at me, and the way he'd talked to Merle the day before reaffirmed for me that my feelings, no matter how frightening and confused, were mutual between us and that Daryl did not think of me as a child. He'd said as much himself.

"Bethie, sing for us, would ya?" Daddy asked from where he sat on a chair against the wall near Maggie, Glenn, and Michonne. Andrea and Merle were on watch on one side of the yard and Sasha and Tyreese had the other side. It wasn't enough anymore to have just two on watch.

"'Kay," I said, shifting Judith in my arms and smiling back at Daddy, as I heard Carol and Daryl settle on the floor just behind me. "Whaddaya'll wanna hear?"

Maggie and Daddy each suggested something different, and Michonne asked what my favorite song was. After some back and forth, I finally chose a lullaby for Judith as she gurgled and fussed in my lap. Time passed, and the lullaby transitioned into a duet with Maggie. Before I knew it, Judith was sound asleep. As Maggie took over the next song and I cradled Judith's tiny, warm, sleeping body to my chest, I heard Carol and Daryl talking in hushed tones behind me.

I couldn't imagine that they would have thought I couldn't hear them, but what they were saying was not something that I would think Daryl would want me to hear. Or, maybe he did.

"She's not a little girl anymore," Carol said. "You said so yourself. And she can make her own choices."

"She ain't, but…" he paused, his voice barely audible, sad and raw. "Wha'do I got t'offer 'er?"

My heart beat faster and my eyes slowly filled with tears. I buried my face in Judith's neck to hide my face from my family. I didn't want to eavesdrop on Carol and Daryl, but I couldn't move for fear that everyone would see my reaction.

"Comfort? Devotion? Passion?" Carol answered, then sighed. "Life is too short, Daryl, we all know this. Plain'n simple—we need each other and should take our happiness where we can get it. I've seen the way ya look at her-"

"She deserves better," he cut her off, but I'd heard what Carol said.  _The way he looked at me…_

"She deserves what she wants, and she wants you," Carol said. "She's worked hard for it, and so have you. It's okay—better than—to want her back. You have every right to want somethin' good for yourself."

They were silent for several beats and I sat letting my tears leak into Judith's blanket. All the confusion and pushing and pulling was coming to a head in that moment, and Daryl wasn't denying that he wanted me. I was overwhelmed.

Maggie's song was done, so I dried my eyes the best I could, thankful that it was dimly lit in the prison. When I looked up, Carol and Daryl were near the rest of the group, just a few feet from me. I stared at him until he dragged his gaze up from his boots to meet mine.

I felt my lip tremble. I didn't want to cry again, but I would have if Daryl hadn't looked at me the way he did then. He was slumped against one of the cell doors, his elbows braced on the bars behind him, looking tired and defeated, and something else—maybe resolved. Then he tilted his chin up with a sigh and looked down at me through slanted eyes. He shook his head, and gnawed at the inside of his lip, never taking his eyes from mine.

"It's my turn to relieve Sasha." Carol turned to Daryl, then stopped, looking back and forth between the two of us, realization dawning on her face. She grinned.

"Thanks for the songs, Bethie," Carol said, sounding and looking more cheerful than necessary. It became clear at that moment that Carol had in fact intended for me to hear their conversation, and by the looks of Daryl he hadn't resisted her plan. Part of me wondered just how orchestrated it all was, and the other part of me didn't care because Daryl had all but admitted that he wanted me, too.

"Beth, how 'bout 'Sister Rosetta'?" Maggie said, breaking my trance and pulling my attention back to the group. "I can take Little Ass Kicker." Maggie got up and crossed the room, reaching out for the bundle in my arms.

I blinked a few times and handed her over. "Sure," I answered, standing and preparing for another song, feeling Daryl's hot, blue gaze touch me and warm me from head to toe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to OneLilHopeful for helping me stay focused on Bethyl this weekend in the midst of event Hell. Thanks, as always, to Leiah and Brodie for reading and giving feedback and supporting me the way you girls do. And thanks to MsKathy for the red pen and hand holding. xox - MJ


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Thanks to Eve (guest), Candi (guest), and Alexandria104 (can't reply to your reviews, girl!) for your kind words. :)
> 
> Just a quick note about Daryl's training Beth: this fic is in Beth's POV for a reason, so nothing he says to her about her positioning or how to stab a walker or fire a gun means anything to her except how his hands feel on her skin or what his voice sounds like in her ears. I'll never get technical with weapons or training in this fic because Beth couldn't care less about any of it. I'm not planning to turn Beth into a gun-toting badass and nether is Daryl. Cool? That being said, I want to thank Siarh for her insight into the arsenal at the prison and what weapon(s) Daryl would logically put into Beth's hands, if for no other reason than to get his hands on her.
> 
> I'm glad you're all still with me. Let's move forward, shall we?
> 
> Disclaimer: All copyright and trademarked items mentioned herein belong to their respective owners. The remaining content is mine.

I told her once "Get thee behind me

Cover up, Missy, for the love of God

I can't not look, I can't not look

And I can't do a thing about what I saw

Though I wish I could, wish I could"

\- Punch Brothers,  _Missy_  


I thought it would happen slowly, but Daryl's assuming of the position, so to speak, happened almost immediately. I idly wondered if he and Daddy'd had some private conversation, wherein Daryl asked for my hand or something equally as antiquated, but his proximity to said hands generally had more to do with training than anything.

Sometimes he'd touch me, but his touches were practical and gruff, and they always fell just shy of real affection. I wasn't sure what I expected after his taciturn half-admittance that he wanted me the way I wanted him, but I guessed I expected more than him taking on the role of my self-defense coach.

"Said y'did good, didn't I?" he griped in my ear, his hands rougher than necessary on my hips and his broad chest occasionally brushing the tops of my shoulders and the ends of my hair. "But practice makes perfect, and I ain't havin' ya  _practice_  down 'long the front line. Now do what I say, girl."

I shouldn't have complained, though, because at least he was touching me, his fingers sometimes lingering on my arms or hands or hips. I could almost believe they meant more than they did, when he was close enough for me to feel his energy humming around me and just far enough away to not feel his heat. Still, he was so grumpy, and it's not like I'd ever asked him to show me how to use a rifle.

"Y'ain't my daddy, ya know," I grumbled in response, repositioning the gun he'd shoved into my hands for the day's training. I focused through the finder, or sight or whatever he called it, out across the landscape. "'Sides, it ain't like I'ma be up here on watch any time soon."

He hummed and shifted behind me, suddenly sending a warm shiver down my spine. "No," he said. "I ain't y'daddy." His knee brushed the back of my thigh and his breath was hot against my neck, making my own knees shake. "But ya never know when ya'll be up here again."

"Yeah?" I asked, my vision blurring around the edges, thinking about maybe being up there alone with him, instead of having Glenn just on the other side of the tower with us. I leaned back into his warm chest, probably a little too far.

"Mmhm," he answered, and I could feel every inch of his body slide along my back and backside. He even let me relax for a second before shifting slowly away from me again.

"C'mon now, girl," he said quietly, his hands dragging from my hips up my sides to my shoulders, pushing my ponytail out of the way and pulling my limp frame straight into place, making me miss his heat. "'Member what I said, now—hold it tight t'your shoulder. Gonna be some kick back, right?"

I sighed and nodded, breathing heavy and trying to focus again.

"A'ight," he said, his voice getting close to my ear again. "See that one off t'the side? Way off, see 'im?" I nodded, and flicked my gaze for just a second to where Daryl was so close to my cheek, and his chest bumped my shoulder again, back to business, bracing me for the kick back. "G'on," he whispered in my ear. "Get 'im."

Then I fully refocused and did just what he told me to do.

* * *

Sometimes I felt cheated. I worried that Daryl and I would never progress beyond those carefully planned and trained touches. There was always someone around when we were together, and there was always a reason. I started to think maybe I was making it all up in my head—that he was really just touching me out of practicality and necessity, and I was making it into something it absolutely wasn't. It seemed like all he was doing was taking on the extra responsibility of keeping me safe and showing me how to defend myself, which didn't make mush sense to me.

"Ya know what?" I irritably tossed over my shoulder at him, after he'd reminded Carol and me for the hundredth time to stay on 'this side' of the garden. "We're aware of how far away from the fence t'stay, Daryl." I dropped vegetables into my bin, then looked up at Carol across the row of beans from me. Her facial expression was pure repressed amusement at Daryl and my exchange.

It wasn't so much of an exchange, though, as it was Daryl hovering and mumbling around me, like he'd been making a habit of, and me whining at his hovering and mumbling. I could see why Carol was smirking and I was slightly embarrassed at my tantrum, but he was frustrating me. While I appreciated Daryl's strength and looking out for me, I didn't get the bodyguard routine at all.

I shot him another irritated glance, and he turned on his heel and wandered away. He remained in the yard, watching, but I was sure he was out of earshot when Carol finally spoke.

"Piece of advice?" she quietly offered, her brow arched over the eye she kept on Daryl's distantly loitering form.

I looked up at her fully and reluctantly nodded. "Sure." I pushed vegetables around in the bin to allow room for the ones Carol was attempting to add to the bundle.

I already regretted snapping at Daryl, but between the hands-on weapons training and his hovering, I just wished he'd leave me alone, if he wasn't going to go all out. There was some annoyingly practical reason for him insisting on training me, but it was also charged with confusing intensity and feeling. I wanted to unravel that tension, shake it out and see where it came from and where it might lead, but he just wouldn't let it go.

"Be patient with him," she said, looking back into my eyes, her voice growing even quieter and her face pleading. "He's still findin' his way. He may not have high expectations for himself, but he does for you, make no mistake about that." She paused again, looking up to where he had moved closer to the triply reinforced fence, since the walkers had started grouping. She sighed and her eyes lost focus for a second.

"And that's hard for him to reconcile," she continued, sounding like she might even be thinking out loud. She looked back at me with a small, sad smile. "It isn't easy to figure out how to give somethin' good to someone, when ya don't think you're good enough to do it. That make sense?"

I shook my head, thinking again about how open and affectionate Daddy was with Maggie and me. He'd been through so much with his own daddy and he'd even had a stint with alcohol. I didn't know what Daryl'd been through, but I could guess as well as anyone else in our group that it was something awful, if his scars were any indication.

I was shaking my head, but everything Carol was saying, sadly, made perfect sense. It didn't stop me from being frustrated, though—and sad and angry at the injustice of it all. Why couldn't Daryl, the careful, conscientious, kind man that he was, have what he wanted?

"I jus' wanna tell 'im how good he is and have 'im believe it," I said, feeling my stomach flip and my face heat. Suddenly my vision blurred and I felt a hot tear spill over onto my cheek. "Why's it gotta be this way?"

Carol reached a hand out to grasp mine and her smile turned sympathetic. I felt so stupid and naive for thinking that falling in love, least of all with Daryl Dixon, would be as simple as saying kind words and living happily ever after. "Nothin's ever that simple, Bethie," she said. "He knows his way around this world and he can offer that to you. Let that be enough for now."

I balanced the bin on my hip and angrily swiped the tears from my eyes with the back of one of my hands, as I swallowed down my anxiousness and frustration. I looked back out over the stretch of land separating me from Daryl.

"I just…" I paused, my voice and breath shaking. "I feel like we're wastin' time." I didn't want to wait anymore, especially when I knew, deep down, that he wanted me, too.

"I can imagine ya feel that way," she said. "But try for a second, to imagine how he feels."

Carol was saying that he didn't know how to do this any other way; he didn't know how to go after what he wanted. He didn't think he deserved anything, so he'd never even tried. That thought made me so angry, and it made my heart and head hurt.

"Okay," I said, nodding in answer to Carol, and grabbing the last of the makings for dinner.

I watched Daryl walk the perimeter—that swagger that said he was a man, knew what his body was made for, and how to use it. The thought made my skin heat all the way to my toes, and I didn't turn my head when he glanced over his shoulder at me.

The way he moved, no woman in our group could deny it—it was primal and pure male. To him it was just the way he walked, though. He wasn't even trying to swagger, was he? He didn't even know how he appeared to us—to any woman—much less how he appeared to the women here who loved and respected him, and who were thankful to him for who he was and what he brought to our group. Even women like Maggie and Michonne and Andrea, who were strong and skilled warriors, recognized what kind of man Daryl was, but he had no idea.

He got up every morning with the thought in his head that he did what he did simply because it had to be done. But Shane had never done those things. Even Rick took on a whole other role in our group, blatantly neglecting his own wife and son to an extent, when he couldn't deal with the overload of feelings and pressure.

Daryl did the things we all needed but that no one else could or would do, without anyone even having to ask him to do it. Like risking his life to go searching every day for Carol's lost daughter, stepping up to take Dale out of his misery when Rick couldn't hack it, and riding his bike all over Hell in search of formula for Judith because her mama was dead and newborn babies can't eat squirrel. No one would have done that, not even Glenn, because we were all focused on our own pain or distracted by something else.

All those things he did, all that he brought to the table, were crucial to our safety and survival and balance as a family, but he underestimated his value.

Daryl and I held each other's gaze for just a beat longer before he turned back and walked further along the fence.

* * *

He lead me out to the Hyundai for another lesson. Carol was right about a lot of things, but it didn't make it easy for me to accept that he may never be able to show me affection the way I craved. I trailed behind him, watching the way he moved and wishing in vain that he'd move closer to me.

"Get in," he grunted, waving at the driver's side door.

Didn't he want to show me how he felt? He was such a physical person; didn't he want to be physical with me? On the other hand, what if Carol wasn't right? What if he really didn't see me that way at all, and I was spinning my heart and mind around some  _teenage girl fantasy_ , like he'd called it?

"I've driven a car before, Daryl," I said, half-heartedly, throwing him attitude and yanking the car door open before sliding behind the wheel.

"Hm," he replied, dropping into the passenger's seat and shutting the door. "Y'sister said y'could use a lesson'r two. I'll take her word for it." His eyes raked over me from head to toe as he shifted in his seat to face me. "Gonna put that key in th'ignition?" he asked, arching a brow.

I rolled my eyes; a driving lesson seemed so totally pointless to me. "Bossy," I mumbled under my breath, and Daryl snorted in response.

That made me smile a little, thankfully, like we were sharing a joke. The tension between us had ebbed and flowed over the past couple of weeks, but it hadn't come near to breaking. Any opportunity to laugh or smile was a welcome one.

I focused on getting the car started and in 'drive', then realized we were surrounded by other vehicles and gear. "Crap," I said. I guessed maybe there was a lesson after all.

"Right," he said with a satisfied smirk, propping his elbow up on the window and smirking at me sideways. "Jus' take your time. Use your mirrors." He didn't seem too concerned, though. As a matter of fact, he started digging around in his jacket pocket and fishing out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter.

I fidgeted again, but I'd only had to slightly adjust my seat and mirrors. "Michonne musta driven last time, huh?" I asked, off-hand, as I slowly backed away from the truck that faced us. "She's th'only person who's my size 'round here."

Daryl hummed in response, exhaling smoke out the open passenger window. He was watching me closely. If I was being honest, it was a bit unsettling the way he stared at me. It didn't make a lot of sense that he would watch me instead of the obstacles surrounding us.

"How'm I doin'?" I asked, nervously, hyperaware of his gaze. I drove around the obstacles, not really knowing where to go, but assuming that the objective was to get the car free of hindrances.

"Real good," he said on another exhale before flicking the cigarette out the window. "Take it over there." He pointed to the gate, where there weren't any walkers gathered. It was an odd sight to see, considering how they'd been grouping lately.

And then it hit me that Daryl and I were completely alone—no walkers, no Glenn, no Daddy, no Judith or Rick. My mind started to wander as I followed Daryl's direction and guided the car where he instructed.

"Yeah—good," he said. "Jus' park it here." His voice was genuinely encouraging and there was something else there—eagerness? I couldn't put my finger on it, but my heart started to beat a little faster.

I put the car in park. "Shut it off?" I asked with my hand on the key in the ignition, looking at him expectantly.

He slowly bobbed his head, worrying his bottom lip with his teeth. "Yeah's good," he said, shifting in his seat again.

My heart started to really race, then, as I turned the car off. I sat straight up in the seat, my eyes darting around the yard, wondering how I missed that we were totally alone when I went out there with him.

"So…" I said, not knowing what to do with the less than comfortable silence in the car, which stretched on for several moments as my heart beat almost out of my chest. Daryl sat still, gnawing on his thumbnail and squinting into the sun as it slowly dropped behind the rolling hills and lush trees of the woods. I felt something pulling at that web of ever present tension that hung between us.

"Well, thanks for the lesson," I said.

Daryl nodded, then eyed me sideways, like he was about to speak but he didn't. I took that as an invitation to  _something_ , although I still wasn't sure what.

"Daryl," I ventured. "What's goin' on?"

His brow furrowed and his gaze drifted to the floor of the car. Then he shook his head.

"I think…" I paused, thinking hard about my next words. I didn't want to scare him further and I didn't want to disrespect his wishes. I wanted to honor him the way that Carol said—give him time and let him work things out on his terms—but something was pushing me to speak. "I feel like—like there's somethin' we should talk about?"

I hated that upspeak thing that girls did, but I was honestly lost in that moment. I had the courage to push forward, but I just didn't know where else to go. I needed him to say something—anything!

He shook his head again, but he finally looked over at me. "Girl, I..." He paused and looked almost in pain. His breathing was fast and shallow, like he was absolutely terrified, but I didn't turn away from him; I didn't back down. "Beth. Why me?"

I let out the breath I was holding—a long exhale—because he was talking, and it was pointed, and he wasn't dancing around it anymore. But what he said broke my heart just a little bit more.

"I told ya," I said, reaching for his hand as he twisted the fabric on his pants. His other hand gripped his cross bow where it sat resting between his knees. "You're a good man. You're strong and smart and-" I paused, feeling myself heat, knowing my face was turning pink, but I didn't look away. "Handsome."

Daryl's eyes widened and he looked out the windshield.

"Don't look away," I said, pleading, grasping his pant leg, next to where his fingers were working the fabric. "I think it, so I'ma say it. Get used to it."

Daryl let out a nervous burst of laughter and looked up at the ceiling, then turned his gaze back to mine, shaking his head. "Y'deserve better'n me."

I almost growled with the heavy sigh. "Who're you to say what I deserve?" I asked, and he didn't even flinch. He sat still and quiet as I unleashed my anger and frustration at him holding me off for days and days.

"Stop keepin' me at arm's length," I pleaded. "I may never get the chance to-"

"Stop." Daryl closed his eyes and held up his hand. "Jus' don't say it." We sat quietly; the only sound for several beats was our breath and Daryl shifting to face me once again.

"Darlin'." He opened his eyes and there was something new there—something like the look in his eyes when we were in the yard that day and he tried to scare me off, but this time, I didn't think he was playing. "Where I been, what I seen…" He shook his head again and his jaw was tight, clenching. "Ya don't wanna know."

I was angry again and didn't care about him doing it his own way anymore. "What, ya think 'cause I'm only 17, I don't know what I want?" I asked, using my hands and making Daryl look wary. "Or that I don't want what a woman wants from a man? Ya think you're forcing me, or ya owe me somethin'?"

"Tha's not what I said, Beth," he tried to argue, but I cut him off.

"I want  _you_ ," I said, feeling my eyes fill with tears again, and watching Daryl's face crumble. He reached for my hand, loosely wrapping his fingers around mine, while I started to cry.

He took a deep breath and faced me square on in the front seat, then squeezed my hand once before releasing it but not really pulling away. "I'ma say some things," he spoke quietly. "And they ain't pretty, but they're the truth, and I need ya t'listen." His eyes were hot and focused hard. "Ya hear me?"

I sniffled and nodded once in agreement.

He looked me straight in the eye as he spoke. "When I was 11," he started. "Came home one night t'my dad on the couch with a girl—'bout your age." He paused, nostrils flaring and teeth gnawing fiercely at the inside of his bottom lip. Then he drew another deep breath. "She didn't wanna be there."

My stomach churned at the implication that his daddy was forcing himself on a girl and Daryl had to see that at such a young age. It was a terrible thought and I felt my skin ripple unpleasantly.

"When I was 12," he continued. "My brother paid a neighborhood girl 10 bucks to take her shirt off for us." He paused, bobbing his head, then dropped his eyes to his hands, gripping his crossbow, twisting and swirling his skin red and white. "And other things," he mumbled, turning his face up and squinting out the windshield into the setting sun.

"Daryl-" I tried to stop him because I wanted him to know that I'd never judge him for what his daddy or brother did to him.

"Ain't done," he quietly interrupted me. "Ya said ya'd listen." He turned his gaze back to me, and I nodded.

"My first time…" He paused again, shaking his head. "I was 14, drunk and high, she was… I don't even know who or how old she was." Then he tilted his head away and looked at me sideways. "To this day, I don't 'member a thing."

I had never heard Daryl say so many words all at once. He was laying his cards on the table, and I was pretty sure it was his last ditch effort to scare me away. As angry as I was earlier, I couldn't bring myself to be mad at his attempt to warn me, because in that moment he was willingly exposed and raw. Everything I wanted from him—the honesty and openness—was there. It wasn't pretty, I agreed with him, but it was him, and I was relieved to hear it.

"That everythin'?" I asked softly, not wanting to make light of what he was telling me, but not wanting to appear put off by it, either.

Daryl heaved a sigh. "Dammit, girl, I don't want any a that for you." The hostile words came out soft—no anger behind them at all.

"I know it," I said, reaching for his hand again. "I believe ya. But, Daryl, unless you're my daddy, which we've established you  _are not_ , or my husband, ya don't get a say in what I get to have. Ya don't get to decide that. What ya do get to decide is what  _you_  want. Ya want me? Then take me."

"I do—want ya—but-"

"No,  _buts_!" I cried. "No more. I'm done waitin'. I know ya'd never try t'hurt me, but this holdin' back is worse than anythin'." I pulled the handle and vaulted out of the car, not wanting any more denial or rejection from him.

"Beth," he called after me.

I walked hurriedly toward the building. I was tired, and I hadn't lied when I said I was done with it, and I was sick of crying in front of him.

Daryl was fast on my heels and then my elbow was in his hand and he was spinning me to face him. I was crying hard at that point—all my frustrations coming to a head, and once I started crying, it was always hard to get me to stop.

"Shh, baby," Daryl said, wrapping his arm around my shoulder and pulling me in tight.

"I'm not a baby," I argued, letting him hold me, a distant part of my brain frantically trying to remember the last time I saw Daryl embrace anyone besides Judith, or if I'd seen it happen at all.

"I know," he said, sighing and shifting me in his arms and against his body. I pulled away from him and looked up into his face, and one of his hands slid from around my shoulders up the back of my neck. I'd worn my hair down that day, and he pushed his fingers up into it, palming the back of my head and tugging gently at my scalp. His eyes bore into mine as he spoke. "Trus' me, I fuckin' know."

Then his mouth was on mine, lips and teeth moving and pulling, and I gripped the front of his jacket like a life raft. I couldn't breathe and I thought I might collapse, if he wasn't holding me up.

His other hand braced in front of him and I realized we were moving—him walking me backward—until that moment. He slowly, gently settled me against a wall and just kept kissing me.

I'd never been kissed like that in my life—never with the passion and desperation and sense of urgency I'd been feeling for days on end. The way he kissed me convinced me that he was feeling all those things, too, and I prayed to God that he would never, ever stop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks, again, to OneLilHopeful for holding my hand and helping me process and develop the meat and emotion of this chapter. Thanks to Leiah and Brodie for your gorgeous pom pom waving and undying support. And thanks to MsKathy for everything and always, and for making my writing English good.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading!
> 
> Disclaimer: All copyright and trademarked items mentioned herein belong to their respective owners. The remaining content is mine.

 

She told me once  
"Sit down beside me"

\- Punch Brothers,  _Missy_

My first kiss was with a boy who lived two counties over, and it was the last day of summer before we were both going into the 6th grade. It was on a dare and it was brief because Maggie showed up and started yelling, scaring everybody off. I saw the boy again the next summer, but we were virtual strangers at that point and there was nothing between us anymore.

My first  _real_  kiss was with Jimmy the day one of our cats died. We were in the barn and I was crying; he was trying to comfort me. It was nice to know that he was there to take care of me. It felt protective in a way, and I thought it was sweet.

My best kiss was with Daryl. It was the longest and the warmest, too. Daryl kissed like he did everything else—with intent and precision, never missing a beat.

He pushed my back flush with the cinderblocks, one hand rhythmically gripping the back of my head and fingers tangling in my hair, and his other braced against the wall beside my head, forearm flexing and straining in my peripheral vision before I finally chose to keep my eyes closed. I twisted the front of his shirt in my fists and involuntarily squeezed my thighs together when I heard and felt him groan into my mouth, overloading my senses.

He shifted his body closer to mine and brought his hand away from the wall to cup my jaw. He was towering over me, making me feel small and fragile and exposed in the best, most raw way possible.

"Beth," he breathed my name, his heat caressing my cheek and jaw and throat as he moved his mouth over those places. Then he clamped his open, wet lips over the juncture where my neck met my shoulder, grazing that sensitive skin with his teeth and tongue, and my knees gave out.

"Oh, my God." My breath stuttered and my hands gripped more tightly in the threadbare fabric of his shirt, so that I wouldn't collapse to the ground.

He muttered a few profanities before working his way back to my mouth. His hand tightened in my hair as his other arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me closer. Then he said my name again. The sheer quality of his voice, the need behind that one simple word, finally forced me to understand all those stories I'd read about kissing making you weak in the knees; I'd always thought it was a myth.

I shifted my hips, because I really liked how close we were, but I wanted to be closer and have a slightly different angle.I wanted his thigh rubbing right in  _that spot_. I also liked the feel of his warm, hard body pressing me up against the cool concrete wall. Then I suddenly remembered we were outside.

"Daryl," I said, catching my breath and taking the opportunity to look into his eyes. "Maybe we should…" I didn't finish my sentence, but instead motioned toward the door of the prison, feeling his knee slip from between my legs and watching his glazed eyes snap back into focus.

"Yeah," he said, bobbing his head in agreement a few times, his hands sliding to my wrists. He squeezed lightly and held my gaze as our breathing evened out. "Gotta get back anyhow—told Glenn we wouldn't be long. Didn't know that…" Daryl cut himself short and awkwardly waved a hand back and forth between us.

I laughed and felt my face flush. "I didn't, either," I said, shrugging. "But, I'm glad."

Daryl nodded, wedging his thumbnail between his teeth and chewing furiously. His gaze heated and fogged over again as it fixed on my mouth. His grip on my right wrist tightened almost painfully, but I liked having him touch me in this new way.

I moved away from the wall and closer to him. My free hand found its way to the waistband of his pants and just sort of hung there by my fingers. I reached up on tiptoes to kiss him, his eyes fluttering closed as our lips met.

Daryl eventually let go of my wrist and wrapped his hands around my waist, lifting me the tiniest bit. The kiss was slower than our first, but equally as warm. After a few beats, he put me down then mumbled something about getting back inside before we were missed.

We walked toward the door, fingers loosely entwined, and I hoped he didn't intend on keeping our new development a secret.

* * *

"Wow," Maggie said, staring at me as I changed Judith's diaper. "That's… wow."

"Whaddaya mean 'wow'?" I asked, slightly offended as I started pulling Judith's pants up over her fresh diaper. "That all ya got t'say?"

"I jus' can't believe he made the first move," Maggie said, sounding legitimately dumfounded, and I shot her a dirty look.

"Well, he did. He kissed me'n I kissed 'im back." I lifted Judith from the table I was using as a changing area and balanced her against my shoulder. I was trying to act nonchalant, when inside my belly was doing an Olympic floor routine, still reeling from Daryl's straightforwardness and unreasonably annoyed with Maggie's reaction to it.

Maggie blinked and let out a single huff of laughter. "Ok," she said, watching me tidy the area. She grabbed the dirty diaper and discarded it, and we were quiet while we worked together to organize Judith's things.

"Beth," Maggie said, trying again, halting my movements by placing a calm, gentle hand to mine. "You're m'baby sister, which means I get t'have my say. 'N ya have t'listen."

I sighed and looked up at her. "I'm listenin'."

Maggie sighed back, releasing my hand. "D'ya know whatchyer gettin' into?"

I felt my face twist with the confusion I felt inside. Intellectually, I knew exactly what I was getting into. Emotionally, not so much. "Whaddaya mean 'gettin' into'?" I stalled and averted my eyes.

Maggie rolled her own eyes and put her hands on her hips. "Ya plannin' anythin' physical?"

My stomach dropped and spun wildly with the memory of Daryl's kiss and his taste still on my lips. "Maggie…" I was embarrassed for some reason. If she'd asked me that question two days before, I would have reacted very differently, but the ghost of how physical we'd been so recently, combined with Maggie's questions, made everything more real and solid.

"Don't  _Maggie_  me, Beth," she scolded. "This's my job, as your big sister. No matter how old we get, I'll always be that." She paused, letting me adjust to the thought that even as an adult, Maggie would always have my back. I relaxed and shifted Judith in my arms as she cooed and nuzzled into my neck.

"Do we need t'have the birds'n the bees talk?" Maggie asked quietly.

I felt my face and neck get warm again. "It was just a kiss," I answered just as quietly, letting the memory alone of that simple kiss do things to my body that I'd never experienced before.

"Yeah, well, things move fast 'round here, in case y'hadn't noticed." Maggie smirked.

"I know they do," I said, cradling and bouncing Judith, as she dozed on my shoulder. She was a constant reminder of just how fast everything happened.

Lori'd carried her to term while we ran from refuge to refuge after the farm burned. All those months flew by and we couldn't even take a minute to nurture her pregnancy. We finally found a stable place to call home, she delivered, and then she was gone.

Even I—sitting inside these solid prison walls, caring for the most vulnerable member of our family—knew we were in a precarious position. We never really knew when the next attack would disable us. Regardless, I had chosen to  _stay_ —to live this life, and live it I would.

"I mean, I liked it," I said, letting myself float along on the memories of Daryl's warm hands and lips. "And I wanna do it again."

I looked up into Maggie's fiery, green eyes. I loved my sister and the way she loved me back so much, sometimes it was overwhelming. She was the fiercest person I'd ever known—before or after the virus hit.

My eyes unexpectedly filled with emotion, and Maggie immediately pulled Judith and me into her arms. She held me for a long time, memories of my childhood, Maggie watching over me, rushing into my mind. I blinked the tears away and smiled.

"D'ya 'member the first time y'met Jimmy?" I asked, and Maggie slowly pulled away from me. Her eyes were also a little damp as she laughed lightly at the reminder of her chasing Jimmy down the road with a cucumber of all things.

"Oh, my lord," she laughed harder. "That poor boy. He musta thought I was a crazy person. But he had it comin'; none of us'd ever even met 'im and he was tryna steal 2nd on the front porch!"

"He was not!" I protested, laughing. "He thought I had somethin' on my shirt…"

"Well, I dunno how he'd a seen it, considerin' his eyes were closed and his mouth was attached to yours!"

We both laughed until we cried, and Judith stirred on my shoulder. I motioned to where I'd set up her sleeping pallet in the mail bin for the afternoon, so I could get some laundry done, and Maggie followed me.

After settling Judith for her nap, I turned back to face Maggie. She looked about ready to burst with words and feelings. "Daryl's not gonna steal anythin' from me, Mags. I can promise y'that with certainty."

Maggie nodded. "I know it," she said. "He's a good man. I jus' want ya to be careful, and I want…" She paused, looking away, overcome with emotion—not an uncommon thing for any of us these days. "Sounds stupid 'cause a all this." She waved her hand around our meager and dreary dwelling. "But I want ya t'be happy, Beth."

I nodded and smiled. "Like y'are with Glenn," I stated instead of asking, because I knew how much she loved him from the second she saw him on the farm.

She grinned and drew in a deep breath, her eyes gleaming. "Like that, yeah."

* * *

"Surprise!" the mix of voices called out in unison as I entered the main room. Almost everyone was there—except Daryl and Merle.

"What in the world?" I asked, truly shocked at the surprise they'd set up without me knowing.

It was my birthday. I didn't expect that Maggie or Daddy would forget, but I certainly didn't expect an organized surprise party. We hadn't celebrated anyone's birthday since the virus hit—no one's. I didn't know what to say.

"We haven't celebrated anybody else's birthday," is what eventually came out of my mouth, then I immediately apologized because I didn't want to sound ungrateful.

"Eighteen's a big deal, Bethie," Carol smiled, taking Judith from my arms and crossing the room to sit next to Tyreese. Then Glenn pulled out a chair and waved for me to sit in front of a baking pan with what appeared to be chocolate cake.

"All birthdays're big deals these days," I muttered, absolutely perplexed by the sight before me. "How…?" I was stunned.  _Chocolate cake_.

"It's a crazy cake—no eggs, milk, or butter," Andrea spoke from across the room. "I've never been much of a baker, but this is what I'd make when it was my turn to bring something for an office potluck."

"We hit the jackpot on our last run," Glenn said, grinning ear-to-ear. "We found a ton of canned and packaged stuff in a cellar—none of it opened. I guess most of the stuff Andrea used has a long shelf life."

I looked around at the smiling faces and started to laugh. "This's unbelievable! Somebody pinch me." I laughed, and Maggie reached over, lightly tweaking at my upper arm. "You knew about this the whole time!" I accused her.

She laughed and nodded. "Stop your stallin' and cut your cake, ol' lady."

It really felt like a dream—that we could all share a singular moment of happiness. I was waiting for the other shoe to drop as I cut the small square into tiny bite-sized pieces for each of us to taste. I made sure to set aside two bites for Daryl and Merle.

Everyone gobbled their chocolate down, but me. I nibbled slowly, watching and listening as the unified sound surrounding me shifted from surprise greetings to satisfaction.

"Oh, man," Glenn moaned. "That's the best chocolate I've ever had in my life. And now I have to go up in the tower." Glenn frowned, and Maggie rubbed a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"How 'bout I come up with ya—keep ya comp'ny," she said, smirking, and his face lit up again.

"Happy Birthday, Beth," Rick said, pulling my attention from my sister and Glenn, dusting his hands off on his pants. I popped the last morsel of chocolate into my mouth. "It's nice t'have somethin' t'celebrate." Rick smiled over my shoulder to where his baby girl lay in Carol's arms behind me in another chair.

"Thanks," I said, standing to clean the pan away.

"Every day's a day t'celebrate, but I sure am glad t'celebrate this one," Daddy said, wrapping his arm around my shoulder.

Andrea intercepted before I could pick everything up. "Yes, and you should all take a few more minutes to do so, while I take care of this," she said pointedly, looking over my shoulder.

I turned then and saw Daryl standing at the entrance to the room, awkwardly shuffling his feet and gripping his rifle so tight, his knuckles were white. Of course his ever-present crossbow was on his back—he seemed to never go anywhere without that thing—so he appeared more heavily armed than necessary for a birthday party. But it wasn't your average birthday party.

"Love ya, Bethie," Daddy said, dipping his head and kissing the top of my head, then turning to Daryl. "Daryl, where's your brother? I'd like to do the honor of takin' him a piece of my daughter's birthday cake."

"Shower," Daryl said, watching me closely. "Prob'ly done by the time ya get down there."

"Sayin' I'm slow, son?" Daddy laughed, as he hobbled past Daryl, carrying a clean rag with the small bite of chocolate in his hands for Merle.

Daryl smirked and hung his head, embarrassed at the implication that he'd tease Daddy, and hiding his pretty smile. "Y'ain't fast," he jokingly muttered, as Daddy laughed harder and left the room.

"How's it out there?" Rick asked Daryl, now balancing his daughter in his arms in front of him.

"Quiet," Daryl answered, chewing the inside of his lip and bobbing his head, twisting the rifle in circles in its spot on the floor. "Check th'fences soon."

Rick nodded and kissed his daughter's head, like Daddy'd just done mine, then turned to Carol and handed back the gurgling bundle of baby. "I'll do tha' right now," Rick said, turning to Carl. "Carl—join me?"

Carl hopped down from where he was perched on one of the tables and crossed the room without a word in answer, but waving and telling me, "Happy Birthday." He and Rick exited the room together. Then Andrea was done with the pan, and she, Carol, and Tyreese moved to leave.

"Happy Birthday, Beth," Sasha said, squeezing my hand, and eyeing Daryl oddly, as she let Andrea and Carol usher her away, the last to leave Daryl and I alone.

Daryl's tired eyes met mine, blinking slowly then looking down at his boots as he approached me.

"Saved ya some chocolate," I said, and he nodded. I turned to pick up the small delicacy and when I turned back he was just inches in front of me. I handed him the piece of cake that I'd set aside for him, wanting to be even closer, but not wanting to press my luck.

He stared at my offering for a beat before flicking his eyes up to meet mine. "Happy Birthday," he said, his voice quiet and rough.

"Thank you," I said, and he pinched the cake between his thumb and middle finger, then popped it into his mouth. He chewed slowly, not making the same sounds everyone had made earlier, but his face lifted a bit from the worn-out expression he'd had before.

"Wanna sit for a minute?" I asked, and he shrugged but sat on the bench beside us, and I sat next to him. I wondered again if he was going to pretend our kiss the day before had never happened, but he wasn't running away from me. "Everythin' okay?" I ventured to ask.

Daryl shot me a quick sideways glance, his brow slightly furrowed. When our eyes met, he must've seen my anxiousness there because his brow smoothed and he sighed. Then he shook his head. "Jus' spent all damn day with Merle." The weary look was back on his face and I wished I had more chocolate.

What I really wished was that he had a good relationship with his brother. I couldn't understand why he put up with him, to be honest. Not one person in the prison wanted Merle Dixon there, except Daryl, and all Merle did was abuse him in return. I loved that Daryl held that kind of regard for family, no matter what, though. That was one of the things we had in common.

"Carol took Lil' Ass Kicker f'the night?" Daryl looked around, reminding me of another thing we had in common.

I nodded in answer.

One corner of his mouth lifted in an almost smile. He was so handsome when he smiled, and it happened far too little. I wanted to make him smile more often—not just so I could see it, but because I knew he was really happy when he did it.

"Gotchyer birthday off, huh?" His eyes met mine, heating up the way they had the day before in the yard, and I thought maybe that look was even better then a genuine smile.

"I guess," I answered, sounding like I was out of breath. "Was all a surprise."

He nodded, leaning to one side and sliding his hand into his pocket. Then he pulled out a piece of a cloth wrapped around something. It didn't take genius to realize that Daryl was giving me a birthday present.

"Oh," I gasped. "Daryl, I…"

"Don't be playin' modest, girl. Take it," he said, gently resting the small bundle on my knee.

I cupped the package in both hands, immediately unraveling the fabric to reveal a perfectly sized, shining, pearl handled buck knife. I let out a gasp of air. "It's so pretty."

Daryl chuckled. "Feminine'n deadly," he said, catching my eye. "'N it's all yours."

I breathed in and out, thinking about the time Daryl would have to spend showing me how to use it. My fear that he would pretend he'd never kissed me slowly burned away, as his smile grew to almost a full on. Then he licked his lips and moved his eyes from mine down to my mouth.

He carefully set the rifle he'd been gripping so tightly off to the side, then looked back up at me, the smile on his lips lifting his eyes. "I'ma give ya somethin' else." His voice was quiet and rough again. His statement, that he was going to give me something, the tone of his voice, and his growing proximity to me made my whole body flush and shake.

"Yeah?" I asked, my breathing shallow and fast.

"Uh-huh." He nodded, leaning in until he was close enough to touch his lips to mine.

I gripped the edge of the bench, leaning dangerously on the edge and to the side, while his lips moved with mine. It was soft and gentle and he didn't touch me with his hands. His head was tilted at just the right angle, though, and his tongue swept across my bottom lip twice before I finally gave in and flung my arms around his neck. I almost toppled over, but Daryl steadied me with his hands on my hips.

"Careful, baby," he muttered against my lips, but he didn't push me away or stop kissing me. Instead, he maneuvered me so I was sitting across his lap, like I had sat on Maggie's a few times on quick trips to town when we'd ride with Mama and Daddy in Daddy's truck. But sitting on Daryl's lap was very, very different.

He wrapped one arm around my waist, keeping me in place, and his other hand was on my neck, fingertips twirling my ponytail in circles and his thumb resting against my jaw. An image of me straddling his lap blazed through my mind, and I was on fire from the thought of how that would feel.

I thought maybe I should be embarrassed by the sounds I was making and the way I was squirming in his lap, but I couldn't be bothered to care anymore; everything felt so damn good. And judging by his sounds and the bulge in his pants, I wasn't alone.

I twisted in his lap, and my thigh brushed up against him. " _God_ ," I breathed, sliding my hands into his hair, as he groaned into my mouth. He'd done that the night before and I'd felt the vibration deep in my chest. Being in his lap the way I was, and having his hands on me and his lips and tongue moving with mine, I felt every touch and sound down to my toes.

"Fuck," he swore, shifting on the bench and tightening his hand in my hair, pulling back. "Gotta slow down, baby girl. Even'f it is your birthday." He dragged his hand from around my waist, sliding his fingers along the skin that was exposed from my shirt riding up and my pants pulling down from how I was positioned.

I rolled my eyes as I slid from his lap to stand. "I know." I sighed, hating the way it felt when his hand left my hair and the rush of cool air when my body left his heat. "Thanks, though," I said.

Daryl turned and grabbed his rifle, and I giggled a little at the fact that he'd been wearing his crossbow that whole time. "What?" he said, looking me up and down.

"Nothin'," I said, shaking my head and reaching for my new knife. "I jus' forget sometimes, the world we live in now. 'Specially with the way ya make me feel."

Daryl froze for a second then turned a critical eye on me. It was rare for him to look at me in any other way besides approval or kindness. The look sent a chill down my spine.

"Can't never forget, Beth," he said, rushing into my space. "Y'hear me?" He looked terrified.

I nodded furiously. "I hear ya," I said, reaching for him with the hand that wasn't holding my new buck knife. "Promise." I had scared him, again, and I didn't like the way he looked when he was scared. "I shouldn't a said it. I'm sorry."

He looked so, so angry, but he calmed almost instantly with my words. "'S ok," he said, nodding and squeezing my hand in his. "Jus' don't forget."

"I won't," I promised once again, and he slowly leaned in then to kiss me once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> End notes: Beth's birthday gift is for Leiah, and the phrase "feminine and deadly" is for Rhanon Brodie. Thanks to MsKathy for making me a better everything.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Hi! **waves* Thanks for the alerts and favs and reviews, guys. We're almost to 100 reviews! Special thanks to the 'guests' and others I can't reply to personally via DM. You all rock!
> 
> Just a reminder that even though this fic is in Beth's POV, and is a departure from the show's timeline, and the Governor is dead, there is still tension among the group because of Merle's previous alliance with the Governor and his subsequent actions (i.e. shooting Michonne, beating and torturing Glenn.) Carol's concerns with regard to Merle are equally valid in this story as they were in the show. If you haven't seen the deleted scene with Carol and Merle, I highly recommend looking that up. (Sorry—FFn doesn't allow links within a post!)
> 
> Disclaimer: All copyright and trademarked items mentioned herein belong to their respective owners. The remaining content is mine.

"It's not time to do shots," Carol said. "It's time to pick a damn side."

She was talking to Merle, and he was smirking at her from the stairs. I knew I wasn't the only one who was over his crap. I wished that he and Daryl had a better relationship, but the unrest hinged on Merle's coldness and his general attitude that he was only in this for himself.

I decided to mind my own business. The prison was huge, but we were all crammed into such a small space we were practically tripping over each other. That didn't mean I wanted to hear private conversations every time I turned around, though.

I spent the rest of the morning and most of the afternoon watching over Judith. She was fussy and Daddy said he thought she was probably teething. Other than her crying and whimpering, the prison was quiet after Merle left with Andrea and Tyreese for a run. We needed diapers and I'd asked for teething gel, since there was no way I was getting anything cold for Judith to chew on.

Just before the sun started to drop behind the ridges of the surrounding mountains, Andrea and Tyreese returned from the run with all the requested items, but without Merle.

"Wha'the fuck d'ya mean he stayed behind?" Daryl was in Tyreese's face, gripping his shirt and shaking him against a wall, but Tyreese didn't even flinch. He kept a firm stance and an intense stare on his sister, Sasha.

"He said he'd draw 'em off," Tyreese replied, turning his sorrowful gaze back to Daryl. "Said for us to run."

"The fuck?!" Daryl let go of Ty's shirt, then turned and slammed his fist into the wall, and we all flinched.

Daryl's gaze darted around the yard—first to Rick, then to me. Rick nodded and I shook my head, then Daryl turned his back on both of us, and moved toward his bike. Carl followed him, opening then closing the gate behind Daryl as he sped away on his bike.

* * *

"Beth, you need to get some sleep," Andrea spoke quietly from my side.

I stood in the open doorway, holding tight to my own midsection, like I could stop the tossing and twisting inside my gut. I'd expected Daryl to go to where Andrea and Tyreese had left Merle, then come right back, but it had been hours.

I shook my head, keeping my eyes homed on the gate. "He's alone out there," I said. "What if he doesn't come back?" Then I turned, hoping she'd have some answer or comfort.

Andrea grinned and narrowed her eyes. "Has Daryl ever told you about the time he got lost in the woods when he was a kid?" I shook my head, and she wrapped an arm around my shoulder. "Well, when Daryl was just a little boy—younger than Carl—he got lost by himself for several days. A week or more, if I remember the story correctly."

I looked up as Andrea recalled a story about Daryl fending for himself, winding up with poison oak, then coming home to a daddy who was none the wiser.

"I guess what I'm trying to say is, if there's anyone we know who can handle himself out there," Andrea said, motioning to the tree line. "It's Daryl—with or without Merle." She grimaced.

"What about last time?" I asked quietly, surprised that the insecure thought even formed into words and left my mouth. "He left before..."

Andrea squeezed my shoulders and the pleasant sensation her simple touch produced slowly pushed through my body, calming me. "He'll come back, Beth. You have to know that he will."

I drew a deep breath in through my nose, closed my eyes, then let it out through my parted lips—the way Maggie's yoga friend from college had taught us. I did know he'd come back, but I also wanted him to come back healthy and whole.

I took Andrea's advice—kind of. I went inside with her and down to my cell. I didn't get any sleep, though. I lay wide awake for the remaining hours of night, until I heard the low rumble of Daryl's bike just before dawn. I shot out of bed, pulled my jacket and hat on, and ran out to meet him, rounding the corner outside in the main yard to find Daddy, Rick, and Daryl.

Rick was facing Daryl with a firm hand on his shoulder. Daryl's head was hung low, as the thumb of his injured and wrapped hand looped around the strap of his crossbow and his other hand balled into a tight fist at his side. Daddy turned his head, a mournful expression, pulling his face long.

Merle Dixon was dead.

"'M fine," Daryl said, half-heartedly pulling away from Rick's grip on his shoulder and keeping his gaze to the ground.

I wished he'd look up because I wanted to see his face. I tried to follow him as he slowly trudged across the yard to where we kept the cars and gear, but Daddy stopped me. "Let 'im go, Bethie," Daddy said, a warning apparent in his voice.

I looked up into his face, feeling desperate and knowing I had to look that way. "But he needs-"

"He  _needs_  t'be alone for a spell," Daddy said, pinning me with his hard expression. It was clear with that look that Daddy knew what was going on with Daryl and me. I couldn't decide whether his warning and holding me back made sense, then, or not.

I reluctantly nodded, trying to agree, but inside my head I knew I wouldn't leave Daryl alone for long.

* * *

I found him in an area of the prison I'd only ventured to once before. It was secure and vacant, but I was a little out of my element. He had his crossbow and a few rifles and other guns laid out before him. He seemed to be cleaning them, even with his hand messed up the way it was.

"Hey," I said, tentatively edging into the room. My belly tightened when he turned to look at me. He just looked broken—in a way I never would have expected for Daryl to ever look.

He halted his movements for just a beat, but didn't look at me. Then he promptly went back cleaning the pieces of metal in his hands. I carefully crossed the space behind him and started to round the table, trying to get a better angle and line of sight while keeping my distance. The last time I saw him so angry, Rick had to hold him back from laying into Shane.

"Daryl..." I came to a stop on the opposite side of the table from him, trying to engage him, but not knowing what to say or do—just knowing that I couldn't leave him there alone in so much pain.

He shook his head and quietly scoffed. "Don't need no fuckin' pity party, princess, so y'can take the long face somewhere else." He tossed the words up at me, then shut me out again, and even though he'd barely cast me a glance, the venom in his voice and the scowl on his face made me feel like I'd been slapped.

I wanted to comfort him, but I didn't like the way he said  _pity party_ , like my caring was something disgusting or pathetic, or something to be mocked and ridiculed. "That what y'think this is?" I asked. "What's wrong with a little compassion, anyhow?" He just kept on cleaning. "I don't feel sorry for ya, if that's what ya think," I said.

"No?" he asked, looking up at me with a scathing expression. "Then why ya standin' there starin' at me like I'm some kinda circus sideshow?" He carelessly tossed the part he was cleaning to the table with a loud clatter, then grabbed his rag from his back pocket and started wiping his hands.

His eyes were on fire and hard. I'd seen them on fire before; but this time there was a definite edge of anger along with that thing that made my heart race and my belly flip. "Y'ain't feelin' sorry f'me, then stop looking at me like that." He threw the rag on top of the pile of weapons.

"I jus' wanted ya t'know that I'm here if ya wanna talk, or-"

"Talk?" His expression was incredulous. "Girl, ya really are livin' in teenage dreamland, ain't ya? Talkin' don't fix nothin'." He turned away from me and crossed the room toward a door; I had no idea where it led, but I followed him. "Talk," he mumbled and shook his head. I imagined he was also rolling his eyes at me.

I was vividly reminded of just a couple of weeks before, when we were out in the yard and he'd turned his back on me in a similar way. We'd made so much progress since then. He'd kissed me since then, and touched me in new ways, and given me a birthday gift; he didn't think I was a baby anymore, and I wasn't going to let him revert back to treating me like one.

"Daryl," I called after him, but he kept walking until he reached another door. I followed him through to a dark corridor. "Ya jus' gonna leave those guns'n all that stuff on the table back there?" I asked, trying to connect with him in some way and failing miserably.

I thought that maybe I should've listened to Daddy after all and left him alone.

"Come back for it later," he grumbled, letting the door slam behind us. I didn't slow my pursuit, despite my second-guessing myself, as Daryl stalked down the dark hall.

"Daryl," I tried again, reaching for his wrist. We were in a corridor that the group didn't use for anything ever. I realized I'd never been in that part of the prison before and I felt a little unsettled. "Ya don't hafta talk if ya don't feel like talkin', but…" I paused, looking around the foreign space.

He pulled his wrist from my grip as he turned to face me, and in the thin strip of light spilling through the high windows, his eyes looked electric or like the center of a flame. In that moment and that light, I was reminded of the bright, hot blue center of a 4th of July sparkler. That thing that fascinated and excited me so much, even though I knew I wasn't supposed to touch it until it cooled down. Mama and Daddy had to drive me to the emergency room my fourth summer when I tried to capture that perfect, pretty pop of color between my fingers. I still remember the sticky, burning residue scorching my fingertips.

"Don't feel like talkin'," he answered, staring me down, his chest rising and falling fully and rapidly with deep and hurried breaths.

"Then whaddaya feel like?" I asked, shifting my weight from foot to foot.

We stood, staring and breathing, anger and grief radiating from Daryl's body at a more intense frequency than I'd felt from Maggie or Daddy after the barn incident, or from Rick after Lori. That feeling terrified me, but for him, not for myself. I wasn't about to walk away and leave him there alone.

Daryl's body and eyes slumped for a second with what I thought was anguish and exhaustion. He'd just lost his brother for good. No, not even lost him—he'd found him turned, and had to put him down himself, if what I heard Rick telling Carol was the truth. I'd watched the shell of my mama gunned down before my eyes, but I didn't have to pull the trigger. I couldn't even imagine what Daryl was going through.

Just as I reached for him again, he began to slowly advance on me. His eyes fluttered and raced across my face and shoulders and chest, then down and back up again. "Dunno what I feel like," he said.

"Tha's okay," I said, holding my ground and his hand, as he staggered closer to me.

His eyes snapped to mine, his body rigid again, and he almost faltered in his step. He paused for a split second, just inches in front of me, then he hooked two fingers in the front of my jeans and pulled me into his body.

His nose rang along my jaw and ear and into my hair. I could feel his breath on my skin and his heart pounding against my hand on his chest. "This okay?" he asked, before dipping his head and insistently covering my mouth with his, not waiting for an answer.

My arms went up around his neck and his other arm wrapped around the small of my back. The fingers that had pulled me toward him swept between my skin and the waist of my jeans until they reached the curve of my hip. Then I felt those fingers twist and slip down into the back of my pants and his thumb brushed and pressed into my hipbone.

I made a sound that was a cross between a moan and a whimper, but couldn't speak even if I knew how to answer; his lips and teeth and tongue were so aggressively working mine and he was suddenly pushing me back against the wall.

"That a yes?" His voice was like gravel—cool and hard—and my skin turned to chill bumps with the sound of it. Then his mouth was on my neck, kissing and biting and breathing heavy, but I still couldn't answer with words.

I rested my head back against the wall and nodded. It was definitely okay, and I stared up at the ceiling, then closed my eyes to revel in the more than okay-ness of it all. His hands and teeth and breath did things to me and made me feel things that I'd only ever read about. Then his warm fingers were brushing against my bare skin again, pulling my shirt up and over my head.

"Need ya t'say  _yes_ ," he muttered, letting my shirt fall to the floor. Then he gripped my hips in his large hands, held me still against the wall, and pressed his lips to the hard, flat spot between my collarbones. His breath was fast and hot against my skin, making me think of the dragon tattooed on the inside of his arm, and I buried my hands in his hair, holding him in place the same way he was holding me.

"Yes." My voice could barely pass as a whisper. I opened my eyes again and took in our dingy surroundings—the cold stone ceiling and walls, bars, filth and blood on the walls—but I didn't care about any of those things because Daryl was pushing the straps of my bra over my shoulders.

"Yes," he repeated, closing his warm, wet lips around one of my nipples, and making me almost lose my mind.

My bra was suddenly on the floor with my shirt, and my brain felt too hot and too big for my skull. I didn't know what to do with my hands, but Daryl sure knew what to do with his, even with one injured. He cupped my breasts and brushed him thumbs over my tightened nipples.

"Such a pretty girl," he said, kissing my mouth again and pressing me tightly between his body and the wall. "Beautiful girl."

My hands gripped his hair, because I just wanted to kiss him for a minute and feel his whole body pressed against me. I went to work on getting rid of his vest, while his hands touched my naked skin and breasts, fingers circling my nipples. I gasped into his mouth over and over, then pushed at his jacket until it hit the floor, diving for the buttons of his shirt.

His knee came between mine and he leaned into me, pinning me in place with not nearly enough pressure, but exactly in the spot where I wanted it. I whimpered and squirmed, and Daryl groaned, taking a mouthful of the skin that stretched across the juncture between my neck and shoulder. "Fuck," he breathed, scraping his teeth across my collarbone.

His rough, dirty hands were gripping my bare waist, his fingers wrapping around me, stroking my skin. He started kissing me again and slid his hands up my ribs. One skimmed around my back wrapping my ponytail around his wrist, and the other cupped my breast again, his thumb teasing my nipple.

I gasped at the sensation and furiously reached for his belt buckle. Daryl's mouth was alternating between nipples, and his injured hand, that wasn't gripping my hair in a tight ball, was gingerly working to get my pants open and down around my thighs.

"Fuck," he repeated the curse more rapidly that time and I felt everything tightening inside me. Everything he was doing felt so damn good, but something was off about him, too. He was grieving, I knew it, and I knew he needed comfort, but I wasn't sure we were doing the right thing.

Daryl flattened the palm of his hand against my belly and pushed me harder into the wall, the cold cement scraping my bare skin and snagging the fabric of my underwear. Then his lips slowed against mine as his hand slid down between my legs.

"Daryl," I breathed. "Look at me. Please." I swallowed heavily, reaching for him, so close to him, but feeling too far away.

He stopped kissing me and pulled away just a few inches. His eyes were sad and mad and scared and wild, but they immediately softened when they met mine, and I knew he was right there with me. He nodded slightly, touching his forehead and nose to mine, breathing heavy and holding me close.

His fingers and his thumb swept over the front of my cotton underwear then back down where I was wet and warm. Something like a groan escaped my mouth and he let out a relieved sounding huff. I could feel the tension draining from his body as he held me close.

I felt his hand twist my hair tight and the heel of his other hand settled over my pelvic bone. He kissed me again, long and slow, and I let my hands wander down his bared torso to his belt.

He'd poked so many new holes in that thing since he'd lost so much weight, and there was a lot of extra leather on the end. I sighed as he pulled one finger up along the wet cotton between my thighs toward the heel of his palm. I guessed his hand wasn't too hurt after all.

He stroked me like that a few more times and I closed my eyes, seeing little bursts of light behind my lids. I wrenched at his belt, letting his pants fall down around his hips once it was undone. I looked into his eyes as he slowly ground his heel into me again and tugged my head back by my hair.

"Baby," he whispered, something like awe and wonder in his voice, then his mouth was on mine, tongue sweeping and twisting inside, and I came—hot and hard and totally unexpected. I'd touched myself before, but it had never,  _ever_  felt like that.

Daryl hummed in my ear and dragged kisses down my throat. He'd shifted his movements and was cradling my neck in one hand and cupping me between my thighs with his other.

"Y'okay?" he asked, and I nodded weakly, wrapping my arms around his waist and pulling him close to me in a hug. Without the layers of clothes and just his underwear between us, I could feel how hard he was against my belly.

I reached down with one hand and touched him lightly over the cotton of his briefs. I guessed I should've been scared or nervous, but I just felt excited by being that close to him. I wanted to make him feel good the way he'd just made me feel.

He placed a hand over mine, halting my movements.

"Let me," I said, looking up at him. "Please?"

His brow was furrowed and he was worrying the inside of his bottom lip with his teeth as he held my hand still, but he eventually nodded in agreement. We were together, and there was nothing wrong with it; we could make each other feel good and comfort each other. I could give him the comfort he needed right then.

I followed my instincts and slid my hand farther down, inching up on my toes to kiss his neck and his collarbone. Daryl made a sound like a small moan, almost a whimper, and dropped his head to rest on top of mine, whispering my name.

When I worked the elastic of his briefs down and out of the way and took him in my hand, he hissed. "Jesus Christ." He braced his uninjured fist against the wall beside my hip and gently wrapped his other hand around the side of my neck, his thumb brushing under my jaw. "Look a'me, baby," he said, echoing what I'd said to him before, reminding me that we were there together.

I looked up at him, smiling and nodding, then started to slide my hand up and down. There was a pooling of moisture at his tip, so I swiped my thumb over it, using it to make the strokes smoother, licking my lips at the same time, and he groaned quietly.

"Fuck, Beth." He kissed me again—along my cheek and down my jaw, then met my mouth with his.

"Good?" I asked between kisses and heavy breaths, teasing a little; I knew it was good because he was growing bigger and harder in my hand with every stroke, even as the sounds he made were small and quiet.

He nodded and clenched his jaw as tight as his fingers gripped my hip, digging in and leaving certain impressions in my skin. "Real good," he breathed, kissing me harder. Then I felt him start to pulse under my strokes and his knee slid between mine again, bracing himself against the wall and making a sound that made me move my hand faster and squeeze him harder. "Baby, I'm…" He sounded like he was choking.

Before he could say it, he came over my fist, spurting against my belly. It was warm and wet, and then it turned cool and sticky. All the things I'd heard about it being gross could not have been further from the truth, and not just because the world we were living in had redefined the word gross. Him coming in my hand like another way for him to show me he trusted me, and I felt like laughing and crying all at once; but when I looked at Daryl, he looked embarrassed.

"Sorry," he muttered, holding me in place while he frantically scanned the space surrounding us. Then he quickly crouched and snatched up his shirt, sinking to his knees in front of me.

His hands, one holding his shirt loosely in his fingers, lightly gripped my hips again. His thumbs gently caressed my hipbones. Then he shot a quick and quiet glance and small smile up at me, before closing his eyes and slowly leaning in to kiss a clean, dry spot on my hip, then focusing on wiping my hands and belly clean.

I stood dumbstruck, watching, letting him take care of me in a whole new way—not like I was a baby, but like I was his—until he stood again, bringing my pants up around my waist, and then his own. After fastening his belt, he shook his shirt out away from us, inspecting it between surreptitious glances at my bare chest and shoulders.

He slipped his shirt on, watching me closely, then reached down and scooped up my clothes. "Here," he said quietly, hesitantly handing them to me.

"Thanks," I said, smiling, taking my clothes and feeling his fingers brush mine. I quickly put my bra and shirt on as he buttoned up his own then gathered his jacket and vest.

I'd never seen Daryl quite like he was right then. He was almost… shy. He was calm and loose. And he looked a little bit sleepy. Still, I waited for him to take the lead, and he did, catching my eye and cupping my elbow.

"Where're we, anyway?" I asked, as he led me back down the corridor. We entered the room where the weapons he was cleaning were strewn on the table.

"Used t'be the infirmary," he answered, grabbing his crossbow and quiver and slinging it over his shoulder. He gave me a small, tired smile when he turned to me again. "Okay, baby?" he asked, reaching for my hands and searching my face with his eyes.

I nodded. "Better than," I answered. "You?"

Daryl mirrored my nod, pulling his lips between his teeth and a deep breath through his nose, then he blinked slowly and pulled me into his arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you Leiah for looking at my disastrous meanderings, to OneLilHopeful for putting me back on track, to Rhanon Brodie for just getting me, and to MsKathy for making my English good. xox


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Remember when you were 18 and sex was electric and everything felt fucking amazing?
> 
> Disclaimer: All copyright and trademarked items mentioned herein belong to their respective owners. The remaining content is mine.

The walkers had started grouping significantly over the weeks. We'd all seen it coming from a mile away and worked furiously to reinforce the fences and prepare ourselves, but 'best laid plans' and all that. A particularly large grouping had taken down a portion of the fence, trampled the yard and our garden; Sasha almost got bit. Thankfully, no one was seriously hurt, but we all had a lot of work to do to get everything back in order.

Tyreese was a mess over Sasha's scare, so he was holed up with her somewhere. Rick felt responsible and guilty, even though we all knew he'd never intentionally put any of us in danger or neglect us, least of all his children or Sasha. Needless to say, we were all exhausted and in need of recharging, resting, and cleaning up.

At the end of the day, I went down to the shower with Maggie and Carol. Carol was distracted, I could tell, by Tyreese's distress over his sister. It was another one of those days and nights when we all thanked God, or whomever, for what we had.

Our shower time was silent, as a result of the somberness we all felt. I could tell Maggie was distracted, too, longing to be with Glenn. I understood the want and need to be close to someone who comforted you, as much as I wasn't used to feeling it with a man until very recently.

After our showers, Carol bid us good night to go tend to Judith. I guessed she needed to take her mind off of things until Tyreese came to her. Once Carol was gone, Maggie turned to me.

"Y'okay?" she asked, brushing a motherly hand across my forehead to swipe my dampened strands aside. There were tears suddenly rimming her eyes.

"'M fine," I answered, reaching up to squeeze her hand and pull it to my side. "Go t'Glenn."

She nodded and watched me closely for a beat. "And you… go t'Daryl."

There was a moment where I felt exposed, then warmed by her acknowledgment. Daryl and I had been keeping things quiet, but I realized right then that it wouldn't be long before everyone was aware, if they weren't already.

I nodded quietly in answer and hugged her before watching her walk away to find her lover and solace. Then I turned and made my way toward the main cell block to climb the stairs to Daryl's area above the cells, where the rest of us usually slept.

Halfway up the stairs, I did a quick sanity check, then pinched myself to make sure I wasn't dreaming because I was doing something I'd never done before. Even after our time together in the infirmary the day before, I wasn't sure that Daryl would let me lay down with him, but I needed him in a way I had never needed anyone or anything. After the day we'd had—the close calls and emotional and physical exhaustion—I was ready to stake my claim and take my comfort where I wanted it.

When I got to the top of the stairs, he was awake—eyes wide and bright in the darkness. He was propped up on one arm, watching me, as he sprawled under an old blanket. Carol and I both tried to make his sleeping pallet as plush and comfortable for him as possible on the cold, cement floor of the prison.

I paused and held his gaze for a moment. Even though he'd heard me coming and was awake, he looked sleep-washed and relaxed and just so damn beautiful in the moonlight spilling through the high, thin windows, overwhelming me with want and need. I knew I had to ask first, though, because he was had been so careful about people knowing or judging us.

"Want some comp'ny?" I asked quietly.

Daryl stared at me for a full 15 seconds before responding, while every imaginable response flew through my mind. Then he flicked his gaze up over my damp hair and down across my shoulders and chest and hips and thighs. He bit his lip and closed his eyes, and I thought I heard a small groan. Finally, he pulled the covers back, exposing the padding underneath and a slim space next to him.

I hurried across the floor, toeing my boots off along the way before kneeling then lying beside him. I turned into him, letting him cover me, resting my hands on the solid wall of his chest and curling my fingers into the gauzy feeling of his tattered flannel shirt.

"Don't y'have a bed a your own?" he muttered, once he'd covered me with the blanket. "A real one?" He ran a warm hand from my shoulder down my back, around my side, and settled it on my hip.

I nodded, burrowing into him, my heart pounding and my breath coming fast. "Jus' wanna be close to you." I slid my supporting knee in between his, as we lay facing each other.

After a few beats, Daryl's hand tightened on my hip, then slid further down toward my other knee, hitching it up over his own hip and giving me the best possible angle of friction for that low ache that seemed constant since the day I saw him in the shower. His fingers slid even further down my calf, wrapping around and tucking my heel behind his back. We were pressed firmly against each other and I could feel every single inch of his warm, hard body.

He hummed and buried his face in the crook of my neck, taking in a deep inhale, then letting it out. "Y'okay?" he asked. He closed his open mouth over the side of my throat, holding it there, lightly swiping the tip of tongue along the tiny patch of skin.

I shivered and ground myself against his thigh. "Yeah, but…" I paused because I wasn't sure exactly what the 'but' was. In that moment I was okay—really okay—but I wanted so much more. I felt selfish. But then I remembered what kind of world we lived in and the day we'd had, that he'd lost Merle just the day before, and what prompted me to go after Daryl in the first damn place. "I want you," I breathed, looking up into his face.

He held my gaze, searching my eyes with a furrowed brow, then he nodded and slowly dipped his head to kiss me. His hand was in my hair, loosely weaving through the drying strands with his fingers. He pushed himself up on his other forearm, twisting us both so he could hover above my upper body while our legs stayed entwined.

As we shifted, I could feel him hard against my thigh and the memory from the day before, how hot and smooth he was in my hands, came rushing back, pouring heat and chills all at once over my skin. It was so quiet in the prison that I was afraid my thoughts were loud in everyone's ears. I whimpered pitifully into his mouth.

"Shh," he breathed, then kissed me some more, slow and deep before pulling away again just enough to murmur, "gotta be quiet, baby girl."

I nodded, sliding one hand up into his hair and my other down to the buckle of his belt. It occurred to me that Daryl was fully dressed, including his boots, but minus his jacket and vest. He was always ready to run, if need be, crossbow perched just next to his sleeping pallet.

I closed my eyes tight, trying to hold in all the good feelings I was having, while the outside world literally clawed to get inside. I was determined to block out reality, if only for the small snippet of time we had together. It may have been our first time, but it may also have been our last, and I was going to savor it.

"Ya want me, too?" I asked, my voice a whisper, so no one else could hear but him. Neither of us wanted to be disturbed by our family, and I didn't want the mere sound of my voice to break the spell we both needed and wanted.

Daryl tightened his grip in my hair and arched my neck as he used his other hand to guide mine below his belt. He closed my hand around the bulge there and squeezed. "That answer your question?" He was smiling—I could hear it in his quiet voice, as he nipped at my skin with his teeth.

My breath caught and I nodded as much as he'd let me with his fingers twisting in my hair. I loved the way his mouth worked against my skin, and within seconds he'd pushed my shirt up and was pulling at my bra. "In the front," I whispered, using both of my hands to work his belt open.

Daryl let out a small, quiet huff of laughter before popping the front clasp of my bra and pushing the cups out of the way, then immediately cupping one of my breasts and pulling the nipple.

"Fu-," I gasped, stopping myself from uttering the f-word. Daddy hated it when Maggie and I even said the word  _damn_. Thank God he wasn't anywhere near Daryl and I right then—for a bunch of reasons.

I bit my lip, thinking I must've looked like a kid caught in a candy store, and Daryl chuckled, pulling my earlobe between his teeth. "What, baby?" he whispered, shifting us so I was fully on my back. "Ya  _fuckin'_ , what? Tell me all about it." He ran his teeth along the shell of my ear, and I shivered

"I love it when ya touch me there," I said, keeping as quiet as possible when he closed his wet, warm mouth over one of my nipples.

"Here?" he asked, licking and sucking one, then switching to the other. "Or here?"

"Fuck," I let myself whisper the word.

He rose to his knees between my open thighs, and I brought my own knees up on either side of his hips while I pulled his pants open. I was like a live wire or a million different analogies that could describe how desperate and exposed I felt right then. I needed him inside me—I knew it from my gut, all the way to the surface of my skin.

Daryl hummed and yanked at my pants. He tossed them to the side once he'd gotten them down and off, then positioned himself back between my open thighs, cupping his hands underneath my backside and curling his fingers around the elastic to pull at my panties. As they slowly slid over my skin, he caught me with his deep blue gaze. "Y'sure." His face was open and eager but serious; he wanted me to be sure I wanted it.

I had never been more sure about anything ever in my life.

"Yes," I answered, nodding frantically and lifting my hips to give him better access.

I knew he wouldn't take his boots and pants off completely, so once he'd gotten rid of my panties and was bracing himself over me again, I started to unbutton his shirt. "I wanna feel ya against me," I said.

He let me push his shirt off, then got rid of mine as well, before settling over me again. He kissed me long and slow, running a hand down my side and my thigh, pulling my knee back up against his side. His scarred skin and the hair on his chest caressed me, reminding me of who he was and where he'd been, as he'd once said to me; and I'd never wanted anyone more than I wanted him.

I reached down between us and gripped him through his briefs, then reached inside, pulling the briefs out of the way. "Touch me," I said, kissing his neck. Then I felt his knuckles on my inner thigh and his fingers…

" _Oh, God_ ," I gasped loudly, and he slid his mouth over mine to quiet my voice, as he slowly slid one finger inside me.

It was like nothing I'd ever felt. I'd never had anything inside me, and I was so thankful for his mouth on mine because the feeling of his thick finger slowly twisting and sliding in and out of me made me cry out. When his thumb brushed my clit and pressed in time with his fingertip moving inside, I lost it completely and came harder than I ever knew I could.

He was still kissing me when I came back down. He'd moved his forearms on either side of my shoulders, too. I felt my eyes flutter as he buried his hands underneath the pillow where my head rested. My legs felt like jelly, but his long, strong, mostly bare body, and the unrelenting hardness against my thigh had me back to wanting him again in no time. The way he'd touched me just moments before had merely taken the edge off and brought me back to focus.

"Beth, baby, ya gotta be quiet, okay?" He dropped kisses down my neck and across my chest, then rose to kneeling again. He rested his fingertips on my belly, keeping us physically connected, as I lay spread out underneath him, open and ready and relaxed. I watched as he dug into his pants pocket then pulled out a condom.

He ripped the package open with his teeth and handed it to me. "Put it on me," he whispered, using both of his free hands, then, to run along my thighs and over my hips and belly, his fingers tickling my skin and heating me to boiling.

I held the open package between my fingers and looked down at how hard and persistent he was before propping myself up on my elbows and sitting up fully. I pulled the condom out, tossed the wrapper aside, and leaned forward to take him in my hands. On instinct, I rolled the condom tightly over him, flicking my eyes up to meet his periodically. He'd sat back on his heels by then and was patiently watching me, his hands never leaving my skin.

Once my task was complete, he pulled at my wrist and whispered, "get on top."

I shook my head. "I dunno know what I'm doin', Daryl, I-"

He chuckled quietly again and continued pulling me astride his hips. "Baby, ya know  _exactly_  what you're doin'." He had me straddling him, but I wasn't convinced. Then he wrapped one hand around my thigh and slid the other between my legs. "Drivin' me crazy, girl." He pushed one finger up inside me again, swiped his thumb along the side of my clit, and I suddenly knew exactly what to do, just like he'd said.

With my head thrown back, I gasped for air and gripped his shoulders for stability as I rode his hand. Then I felt the heel of his hand press over my pelvic bone again like it had the day before, but this time, his finger was pressing deep inside me. I wanted something else inside me.

"Okay," I breathed, nodding quickly, centering myself over him, and feeling his hand leave the space between my legs to grip my thigh again, his wet finger reminding me of where it had been.

He guided me over him and himself inside me slowly. I immediately remembered all the things I'd heard about it hurting as he slid inside inch by inch. It was tight and I felt a sting that turned into a full, hot, burn, sizzling across my hips when I sat fully in his lap.

"Jesus," he whispered in my ear, holding me, one hand cupping the back of my neck and the other arm wrapped around my waist. After a minute he spoke. "How's it feel? Can ya move?"

I nodded, kissing his collarbone. "I want to," I whispered, then I did move.

I started out slow, grinding, because I wasn't sure the friction of in-and-out would feel as good as just moving against him. It was so amazing anyway, and he was moaning enough for both of us.

"Ahh, fuck, tha's good," he muttered low and quiet, taking my mouth with his.

After a few minutes I started to move up and down a little, and it burned again, but he felt so full and warm inside me, and everything was wet, and his hands were everywhere, and his mouth was on mine. I could feel him growing harder, if that was even possible.

I held his face in my hands and made bolder moves up and down and the sting dulled to an ache that turned into that spark I'd felt when his finger was buried inside me before. He held my hips in his hands and pressed his thumb downward over my clit, and I was ready to come again. "I'm gonna…" I whispered into his sweat-dampened neck, then turned and bit into his skin, feeling him still beneath me.

"C'mon." His voice and body shook, and everything exploded.

I collapsed against him, my arms wrapped around the solid mass of his shoulders. As both of our breathing evened, and his hands smoothed my skin, I realized we were sitting up in plain sight for anyone who cared to see. I raised my head from his shoulder, looking around us, then back into his eyes; and one look told me that he realized it, too.

"Daryl, what if..." I started to worry.

"'S'ok, baby," he whispered, then quietly kissed my mouth. "'S'ok."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> End Notes: When I lost my virginity, I did in fact have an orgasm. It was with an asshole drug dealer, but it was awesome, and I was 17. I kinda miss the days of coming easy because you're so turned on and turned around. Even in a zombie apocalypse, Beth Greene's one lucky girl, huh? #TMI
> 
> Thank you to Leiah for helping me identify 'pedo creepy', to Rhanon Brodie for her patience and keen eye, and to MsKathy for her red pen and for putting up with me through all these years.   
> Happy Birthday, K! xox


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Hi, guys! Sorry this took so long. I got a little sidetracked with life and a Reedus RPF that is very different from Hold On. Thanks for sticking with me!
> 
> This is another reminder that Hold On is an AU of the show's timeline, so in this universe, Rick has yet to recant his "this isn't a democracy" diatribe.
> 
> Disclaimer: All copyright and trademarked items mentioned herein belong to their respective owners. The remaining content is mine.

I overslept the next morning. When I woke up, I was in my bunk with Judith nestled between the wall and me. I vaguely recalled Daryl kissing me to sleep, then carrying me down to my cell, but it all felt like a dream. It couldn't have been, though, because I was sore in places I'd never been in my life and I'd slept better than I had in months.

I rolled slightly away from Judith to twist and stretch my body awake, feeling my muscles and joints groan and pop after such a deep night's sleep. I wondered why Carol hadn't woken me, and decided to take Judith and go looking for her. As I pushed my feet into my boots and pulled my hat on, I remembered how worried I was the night before—that maybe we were seen or heard. I worried that was why Carol hadn't woken me—that she was embarrassed or ashamed of me.

It was no secret that Glenn and Maggie were together and that they were physical; you could see it in the way they looked at each other and the way they touched. But they didn't rub it in people's faces. I wasn't ashamed of Daryl, but I was ashamed that I'd been so indiscreet.

By the time I found Carol in the laundry room, hanging some clothes to dry, I'd worked myself into a tizzy.

"Mornin'," I said quietly, my voice rough and groggy—another indication of how lazy and careless I'd been. I nervously bounced Judith on my hip, waiting for Carol's reply.

Carol turned, looking surprised. "Well, good mornin', sleepy head," she replied with a grin. "How ya feelin'?" She looked me up and down expectantly, and reached for another shirt from the basket of freshly washed clothes.

I shifted Judith to my other hip, feeling Carol's eyes scrutinize me. "Okay," I answered. "Shoulda woken me." I looked around the laundry room for a place to lay Judith down so I could help with the clothes.

"I got this," Carol said, smiling at me sideways as she turned to hang the shirt on the line. "Needed the sleep, I'm guessin'."

I bristled slightly. It wasn't obvious if she'd seen or heard us, but she was certainly acting like something was up. I needed to figure out a way to talk it out and apologize. "Yeah, I guess," I said, laying Judith in a bin of clean, dry clothes, then turning to help Carol hang the rest of the wet clothes. "I slept good, though."

"I bet you did," Carol replied with a wink.

"Oh, no," I said, realizing that she knew exactly what had gone on with Daryl and I the night before. "Were we…  _loud_?" I asked in a whisper, looking around the room to see if anyone else might be listening in. "I tried to be quiet, and I know he was tryin', too."

Carol snorted, then reached out and laid a hand on my shoulder. "Sweetie, it's okay. Really. It's not the first time I've heard someone havin' sex in this prison, and I'm sure it won't be the last."

Then she turned back to her task, leaving me staring, open-mouthed in shock. I'd never heard anyone—not even Maggie and Glenn!

"Really?" I asked, suddenly intrigued. " _Who?_ "

"Well," Carol paused, looking me in the eye with an arched brow as she clipped wooden clothespins over the folded shoulders of the shirt she was hanging. "Your sister and Glenn for starters; Rick and Sasha; Andrea walked in on Ty and me last week." She shrugged as she listed the incidents like they were common knowledge. I was stunned.

"Bethie, these are some close quarters we live in," Carol continued. "It isn't exactly easy to be inconspicuous around here. We all just have to try and respect each other's privacy." She shrugged again, as if it was all a given that everyone who was able was having sex at every possible turn. "I was just teasin' ya." She turned to face me and laid a gentle hand on my shoulder again. "And, I want to be sure that you know you can talk to me if you need to, okay?"

I blinked, then nodded. "Yeah, okay," I said. "Thanks." I worried the damp t-shirt in my hands between my fingers, and Carol cocked her head to hold my gaze. She didn't look convinced that I was okay, and I realized that I wasn't entirely.

I wanted to talk about the night before with Daryl, but I didn't know what to say. Was it appropriate to gush like a schoolgirl at cheerleading practice over my first time with my boyfriend? Was he even my boyfriend? I was confused and excited and I didn't know where to start.

"What, sweetie?" Carol encouraged me to speak.

I sighed. "I'm happy?" I said, sounding like it was a question, even to my own ears. "Is that even right? I mean, Daryl just lost Merle and we almost lost Sasha yesterday."

Carol pursed her lips and nodded, then a small smile spread across her face. She pulled me into her arms for a hug. "It  _is_  right," she spoke quietly, holding me and I hugged her back. "You deserve happiness where you can find it, and so does he. Don't deny yourselves any of that for any reason. There's nothing wrong with seeking and giving comfort to someone you love."

I squeezed her tightly and felt my eyes well with tears. I was happy and I wasn't going to let myself feel guilty about that. I wasn't going to deny myself, or anyone else, the luxury of comfort, if and when any of us could find it.

"Thanks," I said, pulling out of her embrace to look into her smiling eyes.

She nodded. "Anytime."

We resumed our work on the laundry in silence for a few beats, then Carol spoke again. "So," she paused. "Daryl. Pretty good, huh?"

I almost swallowed my tongue, but when I turned to look her in the eye, she was grinning ear-to-ear. My cheeks burned at her implication and the mischievous smirk on her face.

"Oh, my God…" I whispered, looking around again to make sure no one, especially Daryl, was listening in. I felt my blush spread all the way down to my toes, but then I straightened up and answered her. "Not that I've got any one else to compare him to, but yeah." I fixed my own smirk on my face. " _Very_."

Carol chuckled and we went back to work. A few minutes later something occurred to me—something that encompassed much of the excitement and confusion that I was feeling as well as explained the guilt.

"He makes me feel like the world hasn't ended, ya know?" I said, hanging a tiny pair of socks to dry. "Like, there might be some light at the end of the tunnel after all."

Carol shifted beside me and I looked back at her softening smile. "The light  _is_  those stolen moments—even before the world ended." She tucked a stray hair behind my ear. "When I was your age, I had this  _sweet_  boyfriend. Daryl reminds me of him a little," Carol spoke with a faraway look in her eyes. "And all I could think about was the dismissal bell ringing so I could go kiss him till our lips were chapped." She laughed then sighed heavily. "Then he went off to college and I got a job and met Ed…"

I didn't want to talk about Ed, and I could tell she didn't, either. "And Tyreese?" I asked, bringing her back to the present. "Is he your light at the end of the tunnel?"

Carol caught my eyes again and smiled, nodding. "Yes. Thank God, yes."

* * *

"Rick, we can't stay here."

I heard Daddy's voice before I saw him. I was coming around the corner to the main area with Judith fussing in my arms.

"We can't leave," Rick insisted. "We've had this conversation, Hershel. Where're we gonna go? With Judith and your leg—where're we gonna go?"

There was a tense silence when I entered the room. I knew they were both thinking that I was a third reason to stay, but they didn't know about the buck knife I had tucked in my boot or that Daryl had been giving me pointers on how to use it. I still wasn't a warrior, but I refused to be a liability to our family.

I dropped my gaze to Judith's delicate, scrunched up features before drawing a deep breath and then looking back up at Rick and Daddy. "Need t'get lunch ready for her," I said, ignoring their stares and shuffling past them to get to the hot plate. I set about boiling water, then measuring the right amount of formula into a bottle for her lunch, all while I held her on my hip.

"Send a group out t'investigate." Daddy had lowered his voice, but I still heard every word—small quarters and all. "Daryl, Tyreese, Michonne—they can find a place and a safe route t'get us all there."

I saw Rick move across the room, farther away from Judith and I, as Daddy trailed behind him. "On the next run, Rick..." Daddy didn't finish his sentence, but he didn't have to; it was obvious what he was implying, and Rick was listening for the first time in a long time.

Rick and Daddy silently wrapped up their conversation and left me alone with Judith to feed. I sat at one of the tables and fed her quietly, thinking about packing up and leaving again. Where would we go? If the walkers were taking down prison fences, what could they do to a single family home? If we weren't safe at the prison, would we be safe anywhere? I couldn't imagine what kind of structure or facility could possibly protect us if the prison couldn't.

And our gardens—what about food? It had taken us months to get the land ready to produce edible crops. We all knew that non-perishable supplies were dwindling dangerously. The survivors of the virus were scattered and every supply run returned less and less food items.

I couldn't figure out what was the best way—stay or go. It wasn't even a question of fight or flight, anymore, because the fact was, the prison, apart from our crops, was becoming less and less something to fight for and less and less likely to protect.

Every second we had together was precious and we had to preserve our time and space as much as possible.

* * *

At dinner that night, I decided to sit next to Daryl. I'd never sat next to him at dinner before, but he didn't even flinch and no one seemed to take notice. It felt important, though. It was one of those moments where I weighed the difference in how he made me feel—hopeful and happy—versus how our daily lives would grind along.

We sat side by side and I remembered what he'd told me—to never forget the world we lived in, and I didn't forget. But my choice to sit next to him at dinner was me staking my claim, and it felt just as important as the decision to send a group exploring for our next home base. Daryl and my choice to be together, Glenn and Maggie's recent engagement—they were signs that we would not be worn down, that life would go on and we would live and thrive. I was doing what I'd set out to do.

I reached for Daryl under the table and put a hand on his leg, showing him that I was there, that I was making the choice to be with him. He kept at his dinner, but he shifted his gaze to mine and gave me that small, barely-there smile that lived mostly in his eyes yet changed his whole face. I grinned right back and shifted closer to him.

After a few blissful moments, Ricks voice broke the silence. "Daryl's headed out after dinner," he said.

I closed my eyes, trying to slow my racing heart at the news that Rick had agreed with Daddy so quickly, and that Daryl was leaving that very night. I could feel Daryl's gaze pinning me in place, as his fingers brushed mine under the table.

"He'll take Glenn and Michonne," Rick continued. "They'll scout out a new place for us."

When I opened my eyes, I saw Daddy nodding in my periphery and Maggie hanging her head. Ever since Woodbury, I knew she didn't like be separated from Glenn. The division made sense, but I couldn't help realizing that both Maggie and I were being separated from our men.

"After dinner?" I muttered quietly, dragging my gaze back to Daryl, and he nodded in response.

"Can help me pack," he said with a quirk of his lips. I let out a short huff of laughter because Daryl had like two shirts to "pack."

After dinner, Carol waved me away when I tried to help clean up. "Go," she said, nodding her head to where Daryl stood talking quietly with Rick, Glenn, and Michonne by the door.

I thanked her before making my way to where Daryl had one eye on me and one on Rick. Their conversation quieted as I drew near. "Hey," I said, reaching for Daryl's hand and feeling his fingers twist with mine. "Gonna be much longer?" I asked, darting my eyes from his to briefly meet Rick's.

"Nah, baby," Daryl answered, bringing my attention back to him. Maybe I should have been surprised by the term of endearment, but I wasn't in the least; it felt right, and I was warmed by the subtle acceptance from Rick and Glenn and Michonne. "G'on upstairs. Be right there."

I barely had a minute to grow idle before Daryl was climbing the stairs to his sleeping area. "Hey," he said, not hesitating to fill the space in front and around me, then taking the shirt I was folding from my hands and tossing it to his mattress on the floor. His hands wrapped around my waist and he pulled me close, his lips on my neck, making me shiver and gasp.

I never really had time to think when I was that close to him, but I didn't need or care to, either.

"Got your knife?" he asked, his voice barely more than a murmur against my skin as his lips and teeth ghosted along the shell of my ear. His fingers slid up under the back of my sweater and his thumbs brushed down over my hipbones just under the waistband of my pants.

I nodded and reached up to drape my arms around his neck. "In my boot," I answered, letting my head fall back and loving his mouth working over my throat.

"Hmm, sexy." His lips were on mine, then, and I laughed into his mouth a little. "And smart, baby." He pulled back to look me in the eye. "'Member what I showed ya." He nodded, encouraging me to do the same and I did. "Stay close t'Maggie and your Daddy." I kept nodding, never breaking our gaze. "Listen t'Rick."

He dipped his head and covered my mouth with his again, slowly pushing his tongue between my lips and teeth and sliding it against my own. I wanted him so much right then—especially knowing what I knew about how he felt and what he did to me. I wanted to just pull him down to the ground and cover us both and never come up for air. But he had a job to do.

"I'll be back, baby," he whispered, his hands breaking free from my hips and waist and traveling everywhere at once, leaving me tingling and gasping for air. "Nothin's gonna keep me from comin' back, ya hear me?"

Then he looked me dead in the eye again, and what I saw sank deep into my heart and soul. Mere weeks before, I'd accused him of being thoughtless and choosing his brother over us. Things were different now, Merle wasn't around anymore, but also, Daryl had laid claim to me just as I had to him. I was his—his family, his mate, his comfort and joy. I could see it in his eyes and feel it in the way he touched me; he would never leave me again.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Hi guys! Thanks for reading and reviewing and hanging out with me. This is the second to last chapter and there will be an epilogue. I hope you enjoyed the story. If you haven't dropped me a note yet to say hi or let me know what you think, please type something into that little box at the bottom of the page and send me a line!
> 
> Also, please check out my girl Rhanon Brodie's fic called Runnning Battle. It's sublime and nail on the head characterization, SO gorgeous and my original TWD OTP: Daryl and Andrea. You won't be sorry!
> 
> Disclaimer: All recognizable elements herein belong to their respective owners. All other elements belong to me.

I barely slept at all that night, unlike the night before, tossing and turning, every sound and movement setting me on edge. Judith fussed in my arms as well as in her makeshift crib, and I didn't know if she was picking up on my restless energy or I was picking up on hers. I finally rolled out of bed at dawn and dragged myself down to our kitchen area to start breakfast and get her bottle ready. Daddy was the first to join me.

"Mornin', Bethie," he said, before giving me a peck on my cheek and dropping a kiss to the top of Judith's head. "What's for breakfast?"

We both laughed because we had the same thing everyday. "How 'bout bacon'n eggs? Over easy?" I played along, and he nodded enthusiastically. "Comin' right up." I turned back to my task as he angled himself into a chair and set his crutch aside. He'd laid a few maps out on the table in front of him when Rick and Tyreese came into the room.

We all said good morning and the men sat down at the table with Daddy, all three of them hunched over the map. Once I had Judith's bottle ready, I took her to Rick to feed so I could finish getting breakfast for everyone. Rick took her from me with a smile. "Thank ya, Beth," he said, easily adjusting the cooing bundle in the crook of his arm and working the bottle into her mouth. He resumed his map discussion with Daddy and Tyreese.

They talked about the route that Daryl, Michonne, and Glenn would be taking, and something about a rendezvous point. I wasn't really listening, though. I was still too distracted and balancing my tasks in front of me.

The morning wore on, hours passed, and chores were crossed off everyone's respective To-Do lists. It was like any other day, but an uneasy feeling twisted in the pit of my stomach, even more than usual. It lasted throughout the day and into the evening.

"How ya holdin' up, sis?" Maggie asked as she approached me, where I stood alone, watching the sun set. Nothing in the world seemed to have changed when I watched the sun rise or set; that was constant, and sometimes I could pretend that I was at the farm and would be able to turn around and walk back inside the house to find my mama at the kitchen sink.

When Maggie wrapped an arm around my shoulders, I smiled and turned to look at her. "Okay," I answered, studying her profile, thinking about how much of the turmoil I was feeling that she must also be feeling. "You?"

She was quiet for a moment, but even in her profile I could see her considering her answer until her brow furrowed slowly. "Maggie?" I prompted her further, then turned to see what she was worrying over.

There was a small herd of walkers slowly filling the yard, no more than a half a football field's distance from where we stood. They'd taken the fence down again. I saw flashes of the farm all over again, and that swirling feeling in my gut rapidly turned into a tornado.

Maggie slowly dropped her arm from around my shoulder and lifted the rifle from where it was balanced at her side. "Go find Rick," she said quietly, aiming her weapon on the herd. "Hurry, Bethie."

I took one last look at the herd then turned and ran inside the prison.

"Rick! Tyreese!" I called out as loud as I could, as I ran inside. Then I heard screams and ran faster.

When I found them in D, Daddy was cradling Judith in a corner, Sasha was fending off two walkers, and Carol had her knife buried in the eye of another. I heard Rick answering my calls and when I turned toward his voice, to the open grate next to where Daddy was huddled with Judith, two more walkers stumbled through the doorway.

The tall one—the one with one arm missing and a one foot twisted and dragging, with shredded and tattered clothes that had been soaked a million times over with blood and pus and gore—lunged for Daddy, and I didn't even think. I reached inside my boot and launched myself at it.

Daryl's calm, instructive words flooded my head as Andrea's and Rick's shouts to run flooded my ears.

" _Eyesocket, temple, base a the skull." He tapped a finger right on that spot where I loved his lips and tongue to be. "That soft spot under the ear. Gotta be the brain, baby. Promise ya won't forget."_

As Daddy turned his back, keeping Judith between his body and the wall, the filthy walker's rotting teeth connected with his neck. I screamed and my fingers gripped into its greasy, clumped hair. Then I slammed my knife upward under its ear. It's body immediately stilled, but not before its teeth had sunken into Daddy's skin.

"No!" I screamed again, yanking my knife from its head and shoving its body aside. "No!" I grabbed Daddy by the arm and spun him toward me, blood flowing from the wound in his neck and down over his shoulder. "Daddy?"

"Take the baby, Bethie," Daddy said, looking me steadily in the eye, as he handed Judith to me with shaky hands. I shoved the knife back in my boot and did what he said, then watched as his eyes rolled back into his head and his chest heaved.

"Beth!" Tyreese called to me. "Take Judith and go with Carol!" I turned in time to see him bringing a hammer down with force over the head of a walker, and the walker then falling to the floor. "Go! I got your daddy."

I turned back to Daddy slumping to the floor, then Sasha was suddenly next to me, gripping my arm tightly. "Let's go!" She pulled me away and we ran, my head spinning and my body feeling as if it were being torn to shreds from being pulled away from him; but I had to stay strong for Judith.

Out in the yard, Maggie and Rick were picking off walkers as fast as they came. Carol, Sasha, Carl, and I ran toward the vehicles, Sasha leading the way and Carl on my heels, each of them firing round after round.

We got to one of the cars and piled in—Carol in the driver's seat with Sasha at her side, and Judith and me in the back with Carl. "Where're we going?" I asked, trying not to fly apart, but we hadn't heard from Daryl yet. He was supposed to be scouting out a new, safe place for us. Our family was divided and scattered, just like we were after the farm, and I was terrified.

"Rendezvous point," Sasha said, looking pointedly at Carol, then Carol slammed the car into gear. I closed my eyes and drew a deep breath. When I reopened them, I saw Andrea and Tyreese emerging from the prison, Daddy draped lifelessly over Tyreese's shoulder.

* * *

Carol drove fast for close to 30 minutes with no other sound in the car than Sasha quietly giving her directions. I couldn't get the thought of Daddy's bloody wound out of my mind. It took over all of my thoughts, twisting and morphing until I thought I might get sick.

I thought about Carl, sitting silently beside me, stealing small, quiet glances and giving me comforting smiles. He'd watched his mother cut open in a gruesome, emergency c-section, then shot her in the head to spare her the change. I didn't have half the strength Carl had to even give my daddy that final out.

We eventually came upon a clearly marked intersection of two highways. There was no sign of walkers, but it was dark, so we stayed in the car and waited for the others to arrive.

"You okay, Beth?" Sasha asked quietly, but didn't turn to look at me, her eyes continued to scan the dark surrounding us.

I nodded in answer, even though she couldn't have seen me. "I shoulda taken care of him," I muttered. "The way Carl did for Lori and Daryl did…" My chest tightened and I felt my eyes prick. I was going to cry. I was so sick of crying. I felt like such a baby compared to the rest of the group. I hung my head, holding back my tears, resting my cheek against the fluff of Judith's hair, as she quietly dozed against my chest.

"It happened too fast," Carol replied, barely audible. "Ya couldn't've known."

I shook my head, then gave Carl a sideways glance. He was nodding in agreement with Carol.

"She's right," Carl said, staring at me intently. "And you only had your knife."

My mind was suddenly filled with thoughts of how that could have gone down, and I wanted it to all go away. I needed to see my daddy one last time, to know that he'd been taken care of properly. And I needed the rest of my family around me; I needed Daryl.

I changed the subject. "Do Daryl'n them know about the rendezvous point?"

Sasha turned slightly in her seat. "Yeah."

I nodded then turned to look into the black night. Judith stirred in my arms and grunted, pulling my attention back to her. "Gonna have to find some formula, diapers…" I tried to lull her back to sleep.

It didn't take long before we heard a car approaching and saw headlights. It was Maggie, Rick, Andrea, and Tyreese. When they pulled up next to us, I could see that Daddy was slumped next to Tyreese in the backseat. I sat, staring blankly.

Maggie was the first one out of the car, running around the back from the driver's seat, leaving the door open and the engine running. She came to my door and pulled it open. "Beth." She breathed heavy and didn't say anything else. I carefully climbed out of the backseat and stood to meet her, and she wrapped her arms around Judith and me both, crying into my shoulder.

"Y'all okay?" Rick asked, his eyes scanning the group as we all assembled between the two cars. Maggie released me slightly, but kept an arm around my shoulders. Rick's gaze landed on Judith where she fussed in my arms, then it drifted upward and held my own gaze. The pain in his eyes matched what I felt in my heart, and I couldn't look away. I nodded in answer to his question while everyone else murmured some form of yes.

"Okay," Rick said, dragging his eyes from mine to look around at everyone as he spoke about next steps. "This is the turn off back to the prison route for Daryl and Glenn and Michonne. We wait here for 'em—shouldn't be long." Without further ado, Rick took Judith from my arms and the group walked a few feet away from Maggie and me, leaving us alone.

"Who…?" I asked, wondering aloud who had put Daddy out of his misery, looking just beyond her shoulder to where he lay in the back seat.

"Rick," Maggie answered, following my gaze.

I nodded. "That's good." My voice was barely above a whisper. I was numb.

Maggie squeezed my shoulders. "They'll be back soon," she said, and I knew she meant Daryl and Glenn. I nodded again, agreeing, as the night grew colder and our breaths turned to mist before our eyes.

* * *

_Sun filtered through the lace curtains as they billowed in the morning breeze. His hands were strong and warm on my back, sliding around my waist, trailing my hip and thigh. My bed was warm, and his body was so close. Then he was kissing my shoulder, brushing my hair to the side to bare my neck._

" _Baby," he whispered, tracing the shell of my ear with his lips and breath. "Baby, wake up."_

_I sighed and shifted, turning and reaching for him._

" _Daryl..." I cupped his face with my hand, and his eyes... they were like a crystal blue, mountain stream, and happy in the sunlight and warmth. "I love you."_

Then it was cold. I'd been dreaming. We'd waited for hours before Maggie and I finally climbed into the back of the car Carol had driven, and we fell asleep. I guessed that Maggie had left me at some point to stretch across the back seat by myself.

"Baby?" Daryl's voice was gentle and quiet. "You awake?"

I was facing him, and my eyes fluttered open to see his face in my hand. He was kneeling on the floor of the car, hovering over me. I slipped my hand around the back of his neck and pulled him down, closer, and he shifted to lay partly across the seat with me. It was an awkward angle, but I needed him close. "I missed you," I whispered, and he nodded then turned in to kiss my neck.

"I'm sorry, baby," he whispered, running his nose along my jaw and his hands up along my ribcage. "I'm so sorry."

I squeezed my eyes shut tight, the lump in my throat swelling to burst and the tears finally spilling over my cheeks. I let out a quiet, gasping sob.

"He was protectin' Judith," I whispered, sniffling and burrowing into Daryl's warmth. "He saved her."

He nodded in answer, holding me and letting me cry. "I know, baby," he said. "He was tough, your daddy. Runs in the family." He kissed me again, that time he lingered against my lips. Then he shifted to pull away slightly. "C'mon, now." He moved to leave the backseat, gently tugging me by the wrist.

"Where're we goin'?" I asked, but followed without resistance.

"Gonna have a service for your daddy."

As we climbed from the car, the sun was just peeking up over the horizon. Daryl pulled me into his warmth once again, as we stood in the chilly morning. "Hey," he spoke quietly in my ear, nuzzling my skin and breathing in time with me. I looked up into his eyes, questioning. We held our gaze for a few beats before he closed his eyes and dipped his head to kiss me again. "I'ma take care a ya, okay?" he muttered against my lips.

I nodded, taking his kiss as deep as I could, and letting him keep holding me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you Leiah, Rhanon Brodie, and MsKathy for sticking with me.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Hi, everybody! **waves* last chapter, here. I'm so sorry this took so long to get out. What you're about to read is the third complete re-write of this chapter, so I promise I was trying to get it done, but I wasn't happy with the other versions. I'm happy with this, though, and I hope you all are, too. Thanks for sticking with me and reading, reviewing, and alerting. xox
> 
> Just to refresh y'all's memories: Daryl, Glenn, and Michonne went to scout out a new place to live because the prison was compromised. While they were gone, the prison was overrun, and Hershel was killed. We left the prison group on the side of the road, preparing to bury their patriarch.
> 
> Disclaimer: All recognizable elements herein belong to their respective owners. All other elements belong to me.

_Strip down, Missy, it's eleven a.m._

_Gonna wake up soon, gonna wake up soon_

  
_Missy -_ Punch Brothers

They'd found a mansion on Skidaway Island, just south of Savannah. Tyreese and Sasha had heard about it from their neighbor in Jacksonville, whose bunker they'd inhabited before finally being forced out in search of supplies. Apparently, there was some kind of survivalist network or something. The owner of the mansion was an old, eccentric billionaire who lived alone, surrounded by palm trees and the Gulf of Mexico. When Daryl, Michonne, and Glenn got to the compound, the old guy, his cook, and his gardener were wandering the halls dead. Otherwise, the property was uninhabited and undisturbed.

After we buried Daddy in a place walkers couldn't get to and marked his grave for later visits, we rode through the rest of the afternoon to our new home. Daryl had pulled me onto the back of his bike before I could climb back in the car, and I burrowed into his back. I cried quietly the whole way—not that anyone could hear much over the rumble of Daryl's Triumph, but he knew. When we stopped in Savannah to circle the wagons, he kept his hand on my knee while he told everyone else what to expect for the last eight miles, then turned and kissed me, sound and firm, before pulling back out on the road to lead the rest of the way on the dark and winding highway.

Nine bedrooms gave us plenty of room to sprawl out with lots of privacy and space in between. We had 5 acres walled in by eight feet of brick topped with a three-foot wrought iron railing. The mere sight of the place took my breath away, but then Daryl gave us all the rundown on what they'd learned on their first trip to the property.

"We got clean well water, land to plant crops, and a greenhouse," he said, as we all filed inside the foyer, having secured the gate and parked the cars. "Runnin' on solar power with a back up generator, but take it easy on the hot water and flushin' toilets." Daryl turned to me and grabbed my hand. "Last room on the south side of the third floor's me and Beth's." I couldn't contain my grin.

That night we settled as much as we could. Daryl and Rick divided out the perimeter checks and watches. We were all still on guard, no matter how safe the place seemed; it was like a dream come true, really, and it was sad that the man who had created the perfect place for this world didn't survive it.

Over the weeks and months, we settled into a routine, still remaining vigilant, guarding our walls. Daryl and Rick went out to hunt periodically, but most of us stayed inside. Daryl would tell me stories of people they met along the way, of how walkers were grouping more and more, of how the world continued to change; but he believed we were safe and undetected inside our walls.

Our first winter on the island, Maggie gave birth to a baby boy. He was beautiful and healthy, and Carol and I worked in tandem throughout Maggie's labor. Two months after Hershel Brendan was born, Rick, Carol, and Andrea came down with some kind of flu. For all the meds the creator of the property had in house, nothing worked; we just had to keep them hydrated and wait it out.

They were quarantined, and Daryl and Glenn went out looking for medicines that we didn't have—more to keep themselves busy, I guessed, and to keep their fingers on the pulse of what was happening outside our compound. I was the only one with basic knowledge to care for our sick family, other than Maggie, and with Glenn out, she had the baby to look after. Everyone insisted that I wear a surgical mask, and I did my best to keep them comfortable.

Slowly, Andrea came out of it, her fever finally dropping, but the cough lingering. "Haven't I heard you cough enough in this lifetime?" Michonne asked one night at dinner. Andrea shot her a look, and Michonne's face immediately lit up with that trademark grin of hers.

"Why don't you move a little closer, Mich?" Andrea teased from across the table. "I can't hear your terrible jokes from this far away." Then she threw a green bean at Michonne's face. If Glenn had been there, we probably would have had a full-on food fight, but as it was, we only lost about three servings of beans to the floor.

Rick was the next to drop his fever. Carl was ecstatic when he finally came out of quarantine. "You look like Hell, Dad," Carl said, wrapping his dad in a hug before the door to the designated sick-ward could even close. "But it's good to have ya back."

Sasha sauntered toward them with Judith on her hip and a pretty smile lifting her lips. "Judith said 'Da'!" Carl said, as if he'd just remembered. "Didn't she, Sasha?" Sasha nodded, laughing lightly with tears rimming her eyes. As she drew closer, she reached for Rick and Carl with the arm that wasn't holding Judith.

"She did, indeed," Sasha answered. "Hello, handsome." She kissed Rick with her hand resting on Carl's shoulder. "I missed you," she whispered to Rick, and he wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her in to deepen the kiss.

"Missed you, too," he answered. Judith reached for him, and he gladly took her before the four of them walked back toward Rick and Sasha's room. After I last spoke with Sasha, I knew they had a lot to talk about.

I turned and opened the door to the room we'd sectioned off as the infirmary. Memories of Daryl and me in the prison infirmary threatened my will to face Carol's weakening form; I wanted Daryl to come back and have a cure for this sickness, then take me away from all of it. I heard her coughing again—gagging and gasping for air. I pulled my surgical mask back over my nose and mouth and braced myself.

When I rounded the corner, Carol was doubled over the side of the bed, shaking and dry-heaving. I reached for the water pitcher and switched the humidifier on again. "Bethie, that humidifier's just makin' things sticky in here," Carol rasped as she pulled at the collar of her soaked t-shirt then rolled flat to her back on her bed.

I switched the machine back off and walked to her side to fill her water glass. She'd grown so gaunt and frail; she was pale as the sheet she laid on. While Andrea and Rick got better, Carol had gotten worse. She slowly dragged her eyes up to meet mine, and her sweat-dampened brow furrowed. "You feelin' all right?" she asked, and I let go a huff of ironic laughter.

"'Course I'm all right," I answered, filling her drinking glass and setting the pitcher aside. I reached into the bowl of cool water with a rag and wrung it out. "Why wouldn't I be?" I asked, folding the rag and using it to dab the moisture from her forehead.

Carol shrugged half-heartedly. "Just lookin' a little peaked's all." She stared at me as I shifted her pillows and kept wiping her brow. I thought maybe some good news would brighten her day.

"Sasha's pregnant," I said, smiling. "She's tellin' Rick right now, I'd guess." I ran the cool cloth down the side of Carol's face and across her sharp collarbones.

Carol smiled and sighed. "Good for them," she said, closing her eyes and steadying her breath. We sat in silence for a few minutes until she spoke again. "And you?" She opened her eyes slowly and looked at me dead on.

"Me, what?" I asked, dipping the rag in the cool water again.

"When was your last period, Beth?" Carol asked quietly, and I froze.

I couldn't remember. "Umm…" I dropped the rag into the cooled water, as Carol watched me. I could feel the blood drain from my face.

"Take a deep breath," Carol said, then coughed heartily, her eyes watering as she did.

I took her advice and let the gravity of the situation settle around me.

* * *

"Have ya told him?" Maggie whispered over baby Hershel's head, as I wrestled with a half-clothed Judith and her will to hop off the counter and run after her brother.

"I haven't, but," I paused looking out the window, where Rick and Daryl were standing behind Carol, where she sat in the sun, watching Glenn and Andrea spar. "I can't imagine he doesn't know, what with my mood swings and hormone spikes. I flat out attacked him in the shower the other night."

Maggie chuckled then rolled her eyes. "Enjoy it, Sis, 'cause it won't last long once ya start showin'," she said. "I felt like a whale most days—didn't want Glenn to even look at me, let alone touch me."

The thought of my belly plumped with Daryl's baby suddenly made me flush. I wasn't used to being pregnant yet. I guessed I was about seven weeks along, but my periods had been so irregular the past few years, I couldn't be positive until Carol said what she said and it all clicked into place.

Just then Daryl turned, catching my eye through the thick glass of the window, like he could hear my thoughts or Maggie and my whispered conversation. He didn't miss a thing.

"Ya need to tell him," Maggie insisted, bouncing her beautiful baby boy in her arms.

I knew I needed to talk to him about it, but I was waiting for just the right moment. The fact was that it was a surprise, no matter how much I'd wanted it. The times I'd tried to talk to Daryl about not using condoms—that I wanted a baby, his baby—he'd resisted. I knew he was just worried about keeping everybody safe; anyone who saw Daryl with Judith and baby Hershel knew that nurturing and caring was in his blood, even though he'd never give himself credit for it.

After we'd found out that Maggie was pregnant, I told him that we should be thinking about rebuilding. I told him that he was a good man and I was proud to be with him, that Daddy had approved of us being together. I had tried to quell all the fears and reservations I saw dancing in his eyes.

_"You're a good, strong man, Daryl-"_

_"So, I'm what, a bull now?" He shot me an arched brow as he cleaned the chrome of his bike. "Nuh-uh. Let's leave the procreatin' to your sister'n Glenn. They got that down pat." He was gnawing furiously at the inside of his lip, which was a consistent habit of his, but more prominent when his brain was spinning. I thought maybe we was worried about diaper changing or something._

_"Is this about carin' for babies?" I asked. "'Cause I've seen ya with Judith. I know you're good with babies, so stop makin' excuses."_

_"Darlin'." He held his hand up like he was using it to make his point. He really just came across as condescending. "I ain't_ good with babies _, and don't go misbelievin' that I am." He tossed his rag to the side and stood up and approached me, that nasty, defensive edge to his voice that I didn't like. "I'm_ good _with keepin' people alive and safe. I'm_ good _with killin' walkers, trackin', huntin'—that's it. I ain't nobody's daddy or husband or nothin' like that, ya hear?"_

_I blinked twice and he walked away._

That was the day I knew I'd pushed him too far. That was also the day he hurt me more than he ever had before or since, with one simple phrase. If he wasn't essentially my husband, then what was he? I missed Carol more, then, because I knew she'd know what to say to ease my mind. I knew Daryl had been speaking from a place of fear, but I craved hearing those words of reassurance from someone else—someone who knew that side of him, too, who would tell me that he hadn't meant what he'd said.

A few days later, he and Ty and Michonne went out on a long hunting trip, giving me a lot of time to think. I chose to think about the good things, like the first time he kissed me and the first time we made love. I thought about my 18th birthday, when he gave me the pearl handle buck knife, then taught me how to use it—how he told me he was proud of me when I carried it in my boot. I thought about how much those of us inside the walls had truly settled into life at the mansion, a place where we all felt safe. Meanwhile, Daryl went out into the brutal world almost daily. It hit me then that our realities were very different from each other's. He'd promised to take care of me, and I was asking him for more than he thought he could handle or deserved.

By the time he came back from his trip, I had made up my mind that I was not going to let him pull away. We had been through too much, and I loved him to the ends of the earth. I wouldn't push him into anything he wasn't ready for, but I wouldn't let his insecurities get the best of us, either.

_"Baby?" He climbed into bed with me early one morning before the sun had even come up, smelling like soap and water, and fresh air. He curled behind me like the big spoon and buried his face in my neck. "I'm sorry—'bout what I said. I didn't mean," he paused and breathed deep in my ear, holding me tight, squeezing._

_I closed my eyes and let him grasp for the words he needed to say and I needed to hear. From what I knew of Merle Dixon, and the scars on Daryl's body and his spirit, I knew what he was trying to say to me wasn't easy for him, but I wasn't going to give him an easy out by interrupting and not letting him say them, either._

_"Beth, you're mine, and I'm yours. I was just…" His breath shuddered as he nuzzled into the crook of my neck and pressed his lips to my skin. "Dixons ain't the best men to be repopulatin' the planet is all I was sayin'."_

_He slipped his hand up under my arm and wrapped his own across my chest, anchoring his hand on my opposite shoulder. I felt safe with him despite his own insecurity, which was the baseline with all of us regarding Daryl. I could feel tears stinging my eyes. I dipped my head and kissed his forearm, then drew in a deep breath, wondering if he was done speaking, hoping that he wasn't._

_He was done using words, but he used his hands to touch me in a way he never had before—bolder and with more confidence and passion than ever. We reconnected in the best possible way, reestablishing things between us, and he showed me a side of himself I always knew was there, but had never seen. I was the one who stopped long enough to find and utilize the condom, though. He didn't argue, and I could see the relief and regret warring in his eyes_.

There was no denying the condom we'd used that morning had no defense against what was meant to be. Daddy always said that God had a plan, and my pregnancy was the epitome of why I had faith that he was right.

"I'll talk to him," I assured Maggie, finishing up with Judith's shoes and setting her on her feet. "After dinner."

* * *

"Ready for bed already?" Daryl's voice floated softly behind me, as I turned our bedding down for the night. He was leaning against the doorframe, watching me, arms folded across his chest, one knee bent and his hip cocked—always ready to spring into action, never truly relaxed.

I smoothed my hand over the soft cotton top sheet as I walked to the foot of the bed, holding his eyes with mine. "Been tired lately," I answered, and he nodded, pursing and gnawing at his lips.

"Bet ya are," he said.

Daryl pushed away from the doorway and wandered into the room, slowly unbuttoning his shirt then tossing it over the back of the chair before sitting down and unlacing his boots. I watched him quietly, randomly drawing patterns on the pristine, white sheet. I didn't know why I couldn't just say the words. It felt like that time I'd taken a tube of lip gloss from Sandy's Drug Store and Mama knew, but I had to confess it. Being pregnant wasn't a crime, though, so I wished it weren't weighing so heavy on me.

I was reminded of the day I looked at Lori and asked her how she could bring a baby into this world. I had wanted to die then, and I didn't see any hope. I accused her of doing something awful. Things were so different two years later. We'd survived and found a place to live and grow, and I had Daryl.

"Gonna read?" I asked. The mansion had an impressive library, and Daryl had taken to reading at night, while I slept. I was surprised that he was lying down with me so early, but I had a feeling he was doing it for a reason.

Daryl shrugged in response to my question, holding my gaze while he unbuckled his belt and unfastened his pants. He left the belt in the loops as his pants easily dropped to the floor and he kicked them aside. I was already in my sleeping shirt, so I followed his lead, crawling under the covers of our bed. Before I could settle into any position near or far from him, Daryl pulled my back against his chest and wrapped his arm across my shoulders—and then he started to talk.

"Sometimes I think it's gettin' more dangerous out there," he spoke quietly in my ear. "Walkers always in herds, can't trust the people ya meet, gotta step light for fear of traps or worse. Makes me not even wanna go outside our walls, ya know?"

I nodded, letting him know I was listening, and knowing he'd said none of this to anyone else besides maybe Rick—knowing he needed to say it; Daryl never wasted words. He took a deep breath before continuing.

"But it ain't more dangerous. Just got more to lose now." He lightly circled my nipple with the tip of his finger through the thin cotton of my shirt, then slowly skated his hand down my torso. "I ain't losin' nothin', though—not you, not ours." He pushed his hand up under my sleep shirt and rested his palm over my belly, his thumb brushing my sensitive skin rhythmically, and I closed my eyes and relaxed into him fully.

I almost laughed. "I knew ya knew," I said, turning my head to kiss his bicep and laying my hand over his. "I wanted to tell ya, I just didn't know how." I felt him nod behind me, shift his body closer, and gently grind his hips against my backside. He kissed my neck, and his hand slid from my belly down between my legs, his fingers stroking me through my underwear.

I immediately felt ravenous and wanton. My nerve endings were hypersensitive, and his touch set me on fire. He pulled my sleep shirt over my head and tossed it to the foot of the bed, as I twisted in his arms to face him. I needed to look him in the eye; when I did, I could barely breathe. There before me, my strong, beautiful man's clear blue eyes were rimmed with tears.

"Daryl..." I cupped his jaw.

"I made ya feel like ya couldn't tell me, or like I wouldn't be happy." He shook his head. "Couldn't be more wrong, Beth." He dipped his face to kiss me. "I want this," he whispered, pulling me closer and dragging his hand down to my breasts. "Want  _you_." He kissed me, slowly pushing his tongue inside my mouth and twisting it with mine, as his hand brushed my sensitive nipples. I felt so full and hot and ready to pop, and we were just getting started.

"Gonna take it nice'n slow," he muttered, thumbing my nipple and skimming my neck with kisses. "Savor ya, how warm y'are, and open."

I sighed and pushed my hands up into his hair, and he rolled me to my back. My legs fell open, and I swore I could feel sparks snapping wherever he touched me, as he climbed between my legs. And his voice was killing me. "Been right on the edge all damn week, haven't ya?" He braced a forearm on either side of my head, his fingers tousling my hair, and his knees between my thighs, pushing them open wide. I trailed my fingers everywhere in random patterns, from his scalp over his shoulders and his collarbones, down his chest and up his back. "Don't know how ya thought ya could keep it from me." He chuckled low and dark. "Can smell ya.  _Fuck_."

His lips closed around one of my nipples, and I gasped and my back arched off the bed. I didn't want him to stop talking, but if he was going to use his mouth for something else, I was glad it was on my nipples. His mouth was almost cool compared to my heated skin. He swirled his tongue around the sensitive peak then took it into his mouth again, pulling gently with his lips and causing the best kind of pain. I held his head in place, where he continued to work with his lips and tongue, as I reached down to cup as much of his hardness in my hand as I could through his briefs. I bucked my hips on instinct and he chuckled again.

"Told ya we're takin' it slow, girl." I could hear the smile in his voice as he dropped kisses to my chest and shoulders, balancing on one forearm to use his other hand to tease my tingling skin. Then he was sliding two fingers inside my mouth, his thumb caressing my cheek and jaw. I closed my lips around his fingers and used my tongue to get them wet.

Sex for Daryl and I had become about connecting and expressing our feelings over the past year. Usually, those feelings were tender and loving; sometimes desperate, when we'd lost someone or there was a close call outside our walls; sometimes a reconnection because he'd been gone a while, hunting; sometimes an apology for saying something one of us didn't mean. The feeling at that moment was passion and need. I hadn't ever thought that I just wanted him to fuck me before, but right then I felt out of control and hungry—animalistic.

Daryl used his wet fingers to circle my nipples then lightly blew puffs of air over them. I was writhing under him, trying to get some kind of friction against the burn between my legs, where he had me pushed wide open. "Needy, baby?" he asked quietly, pulling my earlobe between his lips. Then he was slowly, mercifully, pushing a single finger inside me, but not far and not for long. He simply pulled it out again to spread the wetness he'd gathered along my slit and up over my clit. He slowly and gently circled the swollen bundle of nerves until I tightly gripped a handful of his hair.

"Please, Daryl." My breath was shaking.

"What?" he asked, teasing me further, nuzzling. He'd never been so playful, and I couldn't decide whether I loved it or hated—or if I loved hating it. He pushed his finger back inside and started to move it in and out, sliding his thumb along the side of my clit. "Tell me." He kissed my throat and my collarbone, then started to move farther down with his entire body.

I loved his fingers inside me, but I wanted to feel his weight and power, thrusting into me. I wanted to be connected to him fully. "Please," I whispered. "Fuck me."

His body stilled for a brief moment on his way down between my thighs. I could feel his breath on my belly as he whispered, "Jesus," then continued downward. I rarely swore, and I had never asked him to fuck me. If I hadn't felt his dick jerk next to my thigh, I might've thought I'd upset him.

"I will," he said, continuing to kiss his way down my body. "But I wanna do this first." He settled between my legs, slowly pushing them as far open as they'd go and keeping them there with the broad set of his shoulders. I looked down in time to catch a glimpse of his wild eyes as he slowly dragged his tongue up my slit. At the top, he pressed and rubbed the flat of it against my clit, then slid his long middle finger inside me again. "Lay back," he said, holding my gaze.

My eyes rolled back in my head, as I lay open and exposed, Daryl alternating his fingers and tongue inside me and against my clit. He even slid his wet pinky down between my cheeks a few times, making me squeal and kick. Everything was wet and slippery and sounded sinful and perfect. He smacked his lips and hummed, snagging my eyes with his. "G'on, baby, get loud as ya want," he said, pushing himself up on his elbow to watch, as he finally hooked two fingers inside me and pressed the heel of his hand over my clit—that always did it for me, and he knew it. When I came, it was long and loud, and I was almost in tears.

I breathed heavy and felt him moving me, shifting his weight between my legs and hovering over me. "Open your eyes," he said, and when I did, he kissed me. I could taste myself on his lips and tongue. He hummed. "Tastes good. D'ya like it?" His voice was soft as he kissed me and licked my lips, letting me taste more. I did like it; it made me feel closer to him and like we were part of each other. I nodded, eagerly kissing him back, and bringing my legs up around his hips. "Me, too," he said.

We kissed for a while longer, but he was so hard against my thigh that I didn't want to wait anymore. I wanted to feel him thick and bare inside me, and for him to feel as good as he'd made me feel—always. I bucked up against him then wrapped my legs around his hips, hooking my ankles together at the small of his back. "I love you," I whispered into his ear before raking my teeth along the shell.

Daryl nodded and firmly planted a hand on the mattress beside my shoulder, then used his other hand to guide himself inside; he rarely said those words to me, but he showed me every day. He felt so hot and slick and hard. His jaw was slack and his eyes were half-closed as he pushed inside. The way he stretched me was exactly the sensation I wanted—the fullness and intensity.

"Yes," he hissed, once he was fully inside. He settled over the top of me, digging his knees into the mattress, and bracing his forearms again. He looked so beautiful above me. I wanted to touch and kiss him everywhere; I started with his chest. We took a few moments getting used to the feel of being so completely bare and connected. My ankles were still hooked around his back, so I used them as leverage to pull him into me as I rolled my hips, and we both groaned.

"Kiss me," I breathed, and he answered with his own roll of his hips and pushed deeper inside, as he dipped his head to take my lips. Daryl started to swivel his hips, which felt really good—the pressure, his weight and heat—but I wanted him in and out. I bucked up against him hard. "Fuck me," I whined.

He groaned loudly and gripped the side of my hip. "Jesus, Beth, I'ma come right now if ya keep sayin' that." His eyes were burning and he was gritting his teeth. I whimpered and squeezed around him. He gasped and closed his eyes, tilted his head back and drew in a deep breath through his nose and out through his mouth. He did that a few more times, as I lay beneath him, trying to be patient, wanting all of him, full force. He finally opened his eyes again and looked down at me. He looked more in control, then. He held me in place by my hip and pulled back a few inches, making me groan and curl my fingers into his chest, but it was nothing compared to him pushing back into me.

I let my legs fall back open, my feet flat to the mattress, and I reached up to grab hold of the headboard, as Daryl did just what I asked him to do. Each thrust was slow and hard, forcing my breath and a soft cry from my chest. "Good, baby?" he breathed heavily and kissed my throat, then gripped the headboard above one of my fists, entwining our fingers. His other hand slipped between the pillow and the back of my head, his fingers tangling in my hair.

"Yes," I answered, feeling my face split with the widest grin and my insides shiver and shake. "Oh, my god, yes."

He smiled and nodded, solidly giving me every single inch of him in the perfect rhythm and depth. "I wanna feel ya come," he whispered, dropping his forehead to mine, using the headboard as leverage. "Love it when ya come on my cock. Feels so good. C'mon, please." Then he brought everything together in one big motion of swiveling and thrusting and gripping my hair hard.

I whined and met his thrusts, dragging one hand down between us to press lightly on my clit. On Daryl's third pass, I exploded, calling his name and tightly gripping his fingers with mine around the wrought iron of the headboard. Seconds later, he was coming, gasping for air, and kissing my mouth; both of us were smiling.

"Christ," he breathed, rolling to my side then pulling me with him. He eyed me sideways. "Girl, ya got mouth on ya." He smirked, and I giggled.

"From now on, I'm blamin' everythin' on my hormones," I said, and he rolled his eyes, tucking me into his side.

We talked for an hour or more about how long I'd know without telling him, how I really wanted a girl and he didn't care "as long as there's 10 fingers and 10 toes", and how far along I probably was. He agreed with my assessment of the morning we'd conceived; we'd both felt something that morning. Eventually, Daryl worked his way back down my body with kisses. He rested his head on my belly, like he was listening to a heartbeat.

"Ya can't feel anythin' yet. Not for another couple months," I said, pushing his hair to the side and watching his eyes droop, looking like a sleepy little kid. I thought to myself that maybe I did want a boy, if he was as precious as his daddy.

"Ain't too early to appreciate," he mumbled, laying a hand on my hip and turning his head to kiss my belly before drifting into sleep.

Not a day went by that I didn't realize how lucky I was to have the family I had, to have my life and my health, to have Daryl. Even as a young girl in the old world, I never dreamed of the way I felt with him, and especially knowing that we'd have our own family soon. I was grateful for it all, and I looked forward to each day with the hope in my heart that Daddy always had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, Leiah, Rhanon Brodie, and OneLilHopeful for keeping me on track, supporting me, reading my words and giving thoughtful feedback throughout this process. I would never have written this fic if it hadn't been for Leiah's nudging and Brodie's pretty pom poms and OneLilHopeful's enthusiasm. And this fic would not be what it is without MsKathy's keen eye and gentle heart because I'd probably be a shriveled old hopeless grinch without that lady. I love all of you girls!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to OneLilHopeful for the thumbs up, to Leiah and Brodie for the pre-reads and helping me find Beth's voice, and to MsKathy for the redness of her beautiful pen. I love you girls!


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